(no subject)
As the weather has created warm, sunny mornings I find myself thinking more and more about my heart’s desire.
A porch.
A silly thing to want, I know. But I find myself longing for a place to sit and contemplate. Read. Drink beer. Coffee. Eat my breakfast cereal. Pray.
I’ve been spending a lot of time running and riding through the streets of Urbana and have fallen in love with what lies west of Lincoln. The well-established tree-lined streets are the resting place of some of the most beautiful homes I can imagine; many of them with large porches that overlook the quiet street. It has to be a porch, I tell you, and most perferably a wrap-around porch, as it allows for a sense of community. A rear deck cuts one off completely from the view of passers-by, neighbors, and other porch-dwellers.
I find something so satisfying in sitting out of doors in the early hours or after a hard day’s work. One’s thoughts have more room to move and a porch allows a connection with nature from the protection of one’s own home. It is comforting. It is soothing. It is friendly.
Perhaps it was one too many beers at the Fever House, or Andy’s teaching me to smoke a pipe on his front steps, or bed-and-breakfasting in the Carolinas, or my early morning jogs through the streets before anyone is awake to enjoy the view-perhaps it is all of these-but something has created a deep longing for a house of my own. A house with a porch. And me.