Porch Musings

I learned the joy of porches as a child. My parents loved to sit on the porch, talking, reading the paper, listening to the robins or staring across the road at our neighbor’s cornfields. Sometimes my mother would work on her hand sewing projects. I can’t imagine living without a porch now. It’s a place where I write, contemplate, read, talk, listen to the birds, stare at the trees and flowers, or simply be.

Here in Pennsylvania, my husband Chris, my cat Belle and I enjoy our porch for most of three seasons. It’s screened, which means Belle, who is an indoor cat, can be out there and that I won’t be swarmed by mosquitoes (I’m a magnet for them). Here’s a picture of Belle snoozing on the porch. She also enjoys watching the squirrels and birds. When we went to Wyoming last year, I was grateful to have a cabin with a porch for part of our time in Grand Teton National Park.

I started doing a little research into the symbolism of porches. Some of the things that struck me most were that they serve as a bridge between our inner and outer worlds and between the private and public. The etymology of “porch” is also interesting. It comes from the Old French “porche,” meaning vestibule, the "Latin “porta,” meaning passage, and “porticus,” meaning colonnade. The porch is truly a gateway for the spiritual journey.

I hope you have a porch or a porch-like space where you can spend time thinking big thoughts or letting go of thoughts, where you can read or not read, and where you can do nothing on occasion. Summer is a great time to write a poem in tribute to that space.

Yours in spirit,

Sandra

P.S. I’d love to hear your porch musings.