If I were a stranger coming to visit me for the first time, I’m not quite sure what I’d think of myself. I would probably be so distracted by all the crap that I’d probably forget to ring the doorbell. I might even run. Or I’d wait to see what kind of creature emerged, out of sheer morbid curiosity, given the exterior clues.
I might say the person living here leads a bit of a busy, chaotic life (true).
This person could stand to be a little more organized (false – I am a hapless victim of sharing space with those with less superior organizational skills than myself, and I have learned it is best to keep the peace by resisting my impulses to impose order on a hoarder.).
This person seriously needs more space. Or less stuff (true).
This person should get to work (false, in my imagination).
This person has a mess-o-fun (more true than should be legal).
This person’s porch is a train wreck of information (you be the judge).
If you had blinders on, you would go directly to the door and either ring the doorbell or knock on this:
While you’re waiting and eavesdropping on the inevitable, audible mayhem indoors, you would glance over at this:
That is one of our children’s painted, glittered sand dollars behind the sign; I can’t recall which kid did it when. The only way to find out is to remove it and wait for the little artist to inquire where his masterpiece went. And at the bottom of the green beads, that is a very sun-faded alligator. It was an awesome parade catch last year and was on boastful display on the porch all year. Nobody told us the alligator would turn yellow. Oh, well. We kind of like him hanging around, regardless.
Whimsical junk so far, yes…when I grow up, I will have a more formalized, mature front porch – you know, gas lamps, properly propped cushions on perfectly painted wicker, sculptures, fountain, fireplace. For now, though, this suits the kids, along with the garish Mardi Gras wreath opposite this scene.
You might trip over this on your way up to the door:
Hopefully, this will catch your eye on the ground, so that you will not look up and behold this mess:
Pathetic. Why do we keep these sorry excuses of fauna? Because in the back of our heads we keep thinking “someday” I will magically emerge from a phone booth as a botanical superhero and nurse it back to a full, brilliant life. And besides, the local nurseries haven’t started carrying the good stuff yet that will take us through spring & summer. I’m holding out. If this bothers you, congratulations – it bothers me too.
(Side note to those born after 1990: Phone booths, kiddies, were cubically rectangular, see-through contraptions, not unlike a vertical version of the cryogenic capsule you’ll find yourself purchasing in the next decade or so. In a phone booth, you deposited a nickel – no, a dime – wait, last time was a quarter – into an old-fashioned telephone, complete with something like an umbilical cord which connected a black box with a rotary dial or buttons, and the receiver. You got to call somebody, and phone numbers began with a word followed by five numbers. In some cases you had to talk to a real person, an “operator,” to input your data verbally. These things were on most city corners. Because they did not have Angry Birds or other apps to occupy them back then, they used to have contests to see how many people could squish into one phone booth at a time. It was also where a dude named Clark Kent transformed into Superman and saved the day.)
In all honesty, the geranium opposite this one on the other side of the porch is doing marvelously, with multiple bright blooms. Really. And when I go to trash the one above, I will have a quandary as to what to do with the good geranium, since people like their porches symmetrical, and it would be porch-heresy to put non-matching hanging plants opposite each other. One year I did that because I wanted to. It drove the neighbors bananas, and I got more questions as to why. Everybody kind of got edgy about it. Geez Louise!
Speaking of symmetry on porches, we here in the South can always tell when a Yankee moves in (or an ingenuine Southerner). They will place two rocking chairs on either side of the front door, typically yards apart. This is front porch-fakery at its best. This is no way to enjoy a tall, frosty glass of sweet tea with another person – it renders you rudely hollering across the porch at each other. Nosireebob, a real Southern porch clusters furniture, even if it’s asymmetrical. It’s all about settin’ a spell and being neighborly.
Now, on our porch, we have two white rockers and this baby, all on one side:
Why is there an orange heart on the swing? Because I had extra paint leftover after I painted our mailbox with a sea scape. And orange is my favorite color. Besides, it went well with the cushion. Yes, symmetry fans, there is another orange heart on the other side, too. Rest well tonight.
It is from here that I sip a glass of this or that and watch my children grow up. From here I train the younger ones to come to me when they are called, the first time. It is where I rest after swinging on the big swing roped to the old oak tree. It is where I read and write and pray. It is where I cool off under the outdoor ceiling fan after a good, hard run. It is where I file away memories, where I unwind, and where I cultivate my marriage and parenthood. Oh, and to watch to see what the neighbors are up to and smile and wave as they go by.
Unfortunately, this is the view from the swing, in the opposite direction:
That Buzz Lightyear keeps showing up where I least expect him. You’d think we had two in the house. Wait, we do. You have the toy cars, the disassembled hummingbird feeder, ever-open tackle box, useful string not in use, bike helmet, fishing poles, boogie boards, spare worms in blue container like a crown on the heap. Somewhere under that mess is a Radio Flyer wagon. Inner tube off to the side. And beneath the pew is a collection of dried, sandy, water shoes in several sizes and colors, along with some canoe paddles. Don’t forget the cat food and water dishes on the other side of the pew. The cat came with the house; they just kind of threw her into the deal, interest-free. Ditto for the pew. Long story behind the pew and our faith…suffice it to say, it was an original, hand-made pew which first served worshipers in a local church decades ago.
Scattered in front of the porch and beneath the azalea bushes and pineapple plants are scores of shells. We really do collect ’em.
Thanks, God, for front porches, for a sweet place to enjoy life, and for the things that make a house a home, and a home part of a community.
And thanks, dear friend, for joining me on the porch today. Now tell me, what does your front porch, or your front door area, say about YOU? What’s the most unusual, favorite or annoying thing lurking around your entryway?
Love hanging out with you on your front porch! Very cozy! Let me go whip up some Strawberry Margs…..with umbrellas 🙂
Oh my, since you’re at MY house, please, let me do the whipping-up of the drinks…you just sit back in the porch swing or grab a rocking chair. Listen to the mockingbirds while the sea breeze rustles the giant oak trees…I’ll be out in a jiffy-jiff 😉
K! Maybe I’ll grab the b- ball and shoot some hoops while you work your magic.
I also retrieved your drink at the beach bar too
Oh yes, have fun with the hoops – I’ll play a little one on one with you when I come back out!
It’s not letting me send anything to you, either – comes back failure notice. 😦
Gotcha…First one to score 10 wins…I am ready for your moves SSM!
I just found us a some nice seats at the best Beach Bars to on Monday. Your Strawberry Marg is waiting!
Oh, boy! Let’s go 😀
Yahoo!
[…] The world seems perfectly balanced between voyeurs and exhibitionists. This I learned from a post long ago, the Analysis of a Front Porch. […]
I LOVE your front porch!
I thank you for visiting our porch, Ms. Cindy! Sending you a virtual, tall glass of iced tea to go with it…
~~ssm
[…] the essence of this city for me. Oh and she had four boys and a front porch you must read about here. She had me at Buzz […]
Thank you so much for the award! I am humbled…and yeah, Buzz gets me every time, too.
~~ssm
[…] back to work; I took every item out of my bag and diligently shook out the sand (we just did an analysis of my front porch; perhaps an analysis of what’s in my bag should be […]
My favorite read of the day. I’m off to inspect the wonderful clutteredness of my own front porch now. Thank you.
You’re welcome, trainswhistle. Let me know what you find!
~~ssm
Oh my goodness! Thank you for the laugh. I especially loved the phone booth explanation. It reminded me of something my friend’s son said to her the other day. Apparently, he was put in detention, and he was given a set of rules about what one could bring into detention. A walkman was prohibited. The boy went to his mom and said “What’s a walkman?” “It was our version of the iPod, son” was her reply.
That’s funny! I had a similar conversation with a child last week about life before computers and instant communication, and explained what it was like to actually have to wait to talk to people face to face or wait till you got to a phone with a cord. And that we used to text each other on paper with a pencil in class, and relied on our classmates to pass the text message over to the recipient. In person. 😀
~~ssm
You had me in stitches! If our front porches are any indication, I think we would make the best of friends. I must say as a disclaimer that technically my outdoor front entryway is not a porch, I just wish it to be one and it is easier to type than outdoor front entryway. I have a small three shelf stand out front that the boys store their lovely nature treasures of rocks, sticks, lichen and from there it exploded into a place to store bubbles, dead potted plants, and sidewalk chalk. But we do have additional clutter on the opposite side so as to keep with the all important symmetry you speak so fondly of.
Well, c’mon over, bff. Somehow I neglected to ‘fess up about the endless number of empty yogurt containers (bug catchers), ice cream containers (beachcombing storage units and occasionally sea animal habitat-turned-casket) and the timeless parade of misplaced tools Daddy tries not to cuss about. I commiserate with the clutter trauma. Can’t live with it, can’t live without it…Let’s just keep consoling ourselves with the promise of our little ones being the next Einsteins as a result of this helpless circumstance of quality motherhood:)
~~ssm
The most annoying thing around my house IS the house. The most unusual thing? The gargoyle? The wine bottle edging? The Easter Island head? The cannon? The cow skull? The bottle tree? (You get the picture.)
Hysterical! Of course I understand it’s not, to you. No more than my husband’s idea of a back yard (read: shed overflow) is to me. Either way, can’t be as bad as the front yard I once saw with 17 toilets rimming the yard posing as garden pots. The intentions were good, anyway! Hey, a pic would be great…indulge us sometime!
~~ssm
Were you driving through East Texas when you saw the toilets? Actually, I’ve been thinking about adding some toilets to the mix (I want to see just how far I can push the homeowner’s association). There will be a blog entry at some point about the yard.
Saw them in Oregon. Driven thru TX but didn’t see any on the main thoroughfares. And I was just informed by a reliable source that another collection of toilet planters resides outside the office of a young, prominent cardiologist’s office locally. Only he could get away with that…he’s probably trying to push the limits of his local association, too. I applaud you both.
SSM, many thanks for your visit to my blog. Even though I live on a tiny island on the Canadian West Coast, I read blogs from the South and start talking like y’all! 🙂
My house has a long view over the harbour, through a pass to Vancouver and on to the Canadian Rockies and the Olympic mountains in Washington. But I gaze at that through my living room window. I don’t have a porch like you describe. While catching the hint about not being a “wannabe”, I decided if I can have a deck built on my house, you are the one who is going to help me set it up properly. You can be my first guest…I’ll even learn how to make ice tea.
You’re very welcome, souldipper. The view you have sounds absolutely stunning. I’m not as confident about helping with the set-up, though…I’m not sure what I’d do with such a beautiful space that didn’t involve tripping over crab traps and preschooly vehicles (forgot to include those in the post!). But I’ll bring some biscuits & tea!
~~ssm
Thanks for stopping by my blog and liking my latest post! I thoroughly enjoyed “touring” your front porch perspective and actually want to “borrow” the idea as a post on my own front porch. Would that be ok? I will totally give credit in your direction! Looking forward to reading some more.
Absolutely, Ms. Heather…one good front porch deserves another! Your blog is an inspiration – bless you and your work.
~~ssm
Great.. many thanks, and I hope you will stop on by for another visit!
Alas, we don’t have a porch. So, if you ever want some company, you know who to alert 😉
Love this post.
C’mon over, Mrs. Emily…next time you head for Memphis, take a detour and I’ll have ice cold somethings (appropriate for Bebe) ready and waiting for y’all!
~~ssm
Orange is my favorite color! I have a wall in our living room painted a lovely melon orange.
Regrettably, I live upstairs in an apartment and the entrance is through a rather plain red painted metal door leading first into a hallway with the barn office on the right, the laundry room on the left, and stairs to the apartment dead ahead.
Halfway up on the landing is a 3′ tall replica of the Eiffel Tower my youngest daughter gave to me 7 years ago.
The actual apartment door is also barn red metal, but with a window. Not very entertaining.
But I do have a porch overlooking the prettiest part of Valle Crucis, North Carolina – even if it is the opposite end of the hayloft!
Barn red metal is a lively color – makes up for any lack of other entertainment, methinks. Glad to have a partner in orange! Love hot colors. Fits my hyper personality. Eiffel Tower replicas are cool, too – got one on my living room bookshelf from a Paris trip once upon a time. And lucky you, a porch overlooking that pretty place! Views are priceless.
~~ssm
What a whimsical post! Absolutely love it. Your sense of humour shines through beautifully.
I love front porches and used to furnish and decorate mine but mostly I sit in back. I HIDE. I’m a wall flower. I don’t like the neighbours peeking through their windows (I can tell because their curtains are moving strangely), especially when I’m enjoying a cold one on a hot day. Then there’s the car noise and whiff of gas-o-line, not my favourite eau de cologne. I guess I really was born in the cabbage patch. Out back. And am used to it. Boohoo.
Thanks, Ms. Tess! Back porches/decks are great, too – sometimes better, for the very reasons you mention. Nothing wrong with the cabbage patch – I’m surrounded by them this season, as we speak. I should have mentioned what’s on my back deck: 4 patio chairs & table, 3 plants, giant oak tree shade, dog cage and NOTHING else. That in and of itself is bliss, so I hear ya! If only the acorns and leaves would quit dropping all over the bliss…they’re a b. to sit on, I tell ya.
~~ssm