It has always been one of my small ambitions in life to have a front porch. Nothing grand, just a small cozy front porch with a railing and some steps, and a roof, deep enough to put a few chairs and a table, or maybe a porch swing. In college I lived in a house during my senior year that had a porch, and it was grand. One of the many many gals who lived in that house was part of a bluegrass band, and sitting on the porch while she and the rest of the Steep Canyon Rangers practiced their tunes was one of life's enduring joys. Oh, the happy sunshiney toe-tappiness of it all - bliss! The Samurai Warrior lived in that house long before I made my move, and I remember sitting on the porch with beer in coozies, watching the people walk by. "Hey, you can't park there!" she would holler out to a man destined to get a parking ticket. And we'd giggle when, not five minutes after he gave us a dirty look and walked away, the traffic cop strolled by. Told ya! Tee hee! Front porches are fun.
Well, blog, I've finally done it. My new house has a front porch, and it is all I ever dreamed it would be. I haven't got a porch swing, or even anything more elegant than a set of $10 folding chairs to perch upon, but the other day when the sun came out and the weather warmed up, I rode my bike home from school, fixed myself a bowl of strawberries and blueberries, and plopped myself down on the front porch. After a few minutes I got nostalgic, so I called up the Samurai Warrior on the phone. "Hey, guess what I'm doing right now," I said. "What?" she asked. "I'm sitting on my front porch watching all the people go by." The Samurai laughed and said, "Hey, you can't park there!"