Early Spring from the Porch

On this first day of March, I sat on the front porch at twilight.  Despite what the calendar says, it seems spring has pushed the door wide enough to slip past winter’s blast.  The peepers were chirping, wild geese honked overhead and a rumble of spring thunder could be heard in the southwest.  The daffodils are blooming, spring beauties are scattered throughout the grass and yesterday I found a hyacinth that has managed to push a shaggy head through the leaves and grass at the fence. 

 The dogs arrange themselves around my feet, with Sophie taking lookout by my knee nearest the edge of porch and the others finding their own spot.  As gentle as she is, I have noticed that Sophie always seems to place herself between me and what might be perceived as a threat, no matter how safe it might look at the time.  A dog can’t be too careful.

I think part of the reason the extreme cold this winter was so depressing was that we couldn’t sit on the front porch.  I always blame my moods on the dreariness of the grey days, when the sun hides its face and the damp settles in.  But once the temperature reaches front porch sitting level and I take my seat in the swing, even the grey days are bearable.  Birds flutter around the feeders and sing from the nearby crab-apple tree.  My Christmas rose bravely lifts its white blossoms to the cold air.   Hawks sail by on silent wings and owls hoot from the holler at dusk. Things just look better from the porch swing.

Front porches play many roles.  They can be stages for impromptu concerts, when family and friends get together and bring out musical instruments.  They can be a counselor’s office, where advice is sought and given, and sometimes unsought but still given.  A porch can be a history class, where younger generations learn where they came from and the real-life effects of those dry facts in the history books.  New friends are made on front porches and old friendships are cemented.   Games are created and played, and imaginations give birth to dreams.  Laughter rings out, tears flow, and contentment settles in the heart.   Peas are shelled and corn is shucked, with many hands making light work.  Prayers come a little easier in a porch swing and big decisions don’t seem as daunting.  And there is no better way to watch it rain than from a seat on the porch.  Front porches are healing places, especially when they look out over rolling fields and woodlands.  I think a lot of the world’s problems could be solved if the leaders met on a front porch with a cold pitcher of sweet tea and enough porch swings for everyone to have a seat. 

I love to have friends drop by.  Sometimes my house is not fit for company, but my front porch is always suitable for visitors.  There are more excuses for a messy porch!  The cushions may be faded and the stuffing may be leaking out.  The floor may be littered with bones, sticks and unidentified leftover toys.  But all that is unimportant when birds are singing, frogs are peeping, and even the threat of rain can’t dampen the spirit.  It's so steeped in good memories, you can't have a bad day there. I have a little sign on my porch that says, “Front Porch Therapy 25 cents, No refunds.”  I’ve never had anyone ask for a refund!

The wind picked up as the darkness fell and the rumbles of thunder grew louder.  Reluctantly, I went inside, just as the first spatters of rain fell.  It seems March will come in like a lion.  But even if it does, I will put on my jacket and sit on my front porch every day.  It’s good for the soul.