The front porch...

9 years ago we came to Maine from Memphis to look at houses on a cold March day. We saw 14 houses in a day and a half. Our brains were on fire! I liked a few of the houses, but when I saw THIS house I felt at home. And then I saw the porch. The view through the old wavy glass from the many-paned windows was of mud and dirty snow drifts and a glimpse of Sennebec Pond. And I could see the possibilities. In my minds eye there was wicker furniture and old bottles and a place to curl up with a really good book. I told Chris, "We can stop looking, this is our house." He said, "We can't afford it." So we bought it. At Thanksgiving, when we feed as many people as this old house will hold, the porch stands by as a "cold storage" place where we stack pies and pans of mashed potatoes and other goodies. In the winter the porch becomes a place to stash Christmas decorations and boxes of this and that. It becomes a cluttered catch all that is a chore to clean in the spring. This year I put off cleaning until July. It vexed me. This wonderful space was cluttered with cast off furniture and things that did not belong there. It took an afternoon with the sun slanting in hotly to put things right. But now the porch is ready for a good book, a late candle-lit supper, early morning writing sessions. The windows funnel the calls of loons on the lake and fetch in the view of rye growing in the field across the street, goats, pony and chickens in the side yard. The floor isn't level and it needs to be refinished, but the porch is as comfortable as a pair of old blue jeans.