What’s on Your Front Porch?

Pragmatics

• -Here’s some history on the American front porch—its window onto nature, its promotion of community, and more.


• -Here’s one porch sitter’s photographic record, of (presumed) purple finches on the porch, from nest to post-flying the coop.


• -A YouTube video of baby mice. Snowy and Twinkle (see below) are darker than this—must be a few days old.


• -Here’s a good guide to identifying your insect finds.


• -I am not the only porch enthusiast. See NPR’s listener submitted porch stories.


• -If you are really serious, joint the Professional Porch Sitters Union.
  
  

Prose

Spring’s fecundity is fully ripening into summer. In the delight of barefoot mornings, Gavin and I have taken to visiting the front porch first thing. We’ve started a log of what (or should I say who) we find there. Today’s entry:

· Black moth
· Brown moth (looks like a leaf)
· Pill bug
· Potato bug
· Black beetle – shiny (dead)
· Smaller black beetle

This inventory seems important. It chronicles an intent to be aware, to be appreciative of what is literally just outside our door. It imparts lessons that my father, who died when I was six (Gavin’s age now), tried to impart. His love for nature came through, although I don’t remember many details of our discussions. I remember being told that fog was “clouds on the ground”, and that dewy grass predicts a dry day. The message I got was openness—to look, listen, smell, and feel the world around me.

On our trip to Florida a couple of weeks ago, we immediately appreciated the warmer air. It was still comparatively chilly in Connecticut, and the 10 + added degrees had us kicking off our shoes and lingering on the hotel balcony. The area we stayed in had a host of attractions, but what stayed with me the most were spontaneous contacts with nature— the brown lizard who puffed his neck up when we caught him, speckled eggs en route to the pool, birds chirping out alarms, guarding a nest at the miniature golf course. These encounters warmed me in a way that no tropical climate can.

Scooping out mulch to fill our flower beds today, Tom retrieved some unexpected tiny lives. Baby mice, eyes not yet opened, squirming and squeaking for their missing mother. Yes, we’ve become their surrogate parents. Snowy and Twinkle are sipping milk from our hands, snoozing in a cardboard box cushioned with grass and paper towels. What better gift? We know their grasp on life is shaky, but treasure their warm bodies curling into our palms, clumsily lapping up milk.

What’s on your front porch, or just beyond?