|Time for one last garden clean-up|
My Front PorchIn the southern U.S., it's common to see folks sitting in pillow-stuffed wicker chairs or slow-moving rockers on wrap-around porches watching the world go by. It's long been a dream of mine to have not only the veranda, but also the balmy weather and leisure to enjoy such an activity.
Big porches are a rare sight here in eastern Ontario. On ocassion I've seen a front-yard-sitter, but for the most part, when people are outside here, they're either working or on the move. Sitting takes place inside or in private, fenced back yards where interaction takes place only by invitation. People aren't unfriendly; they're just busy.
My writing chair is situated in the natural light of a wonderful, nearly floor-to-ceiling front window, and provides a juniper-bordered view of the street. I enjoy taking in the slow, irregular parade of dog-walkers, bike-riders, and the comings and goings of neighbours, waving when one looks my way. I observe the constant changes in the garden, V's of geese, darting of black-capped chick-a-dees, glimpses of bright red cardinals, and brash antics of the squirrels.
Perhaps in fact, this spot is this northerner's climate-controlled answer to the pleasures of front porch sittin'.