We recently added a back porch to our house. Something I have wanted to do for years. I love porches. Some of my fondness memories of growing up took place on a porch. I can remember has a small child going to my great grandpa Rodgers house sitting with him on his porch, watching him pack his pipe with Sir Walter Raleigh and remembering what a thrill I got when he let me pack his pipe for him.

I remember sitting on the front porch of my aunt’s house during thunder storms sitting, watching the fireworks show that God provided for us on many hot summer evenings. That same porch on my eighth birthday we had a cowboy birthday party. I had my six shooter and for that day I was Flint McCullough of the old Western TV show, Wagon Train.

I can easily see me becoming obsessed with my porch. I love having that first cup of coffee in the morning there—listening to birds, seeing a flash of red as a cardinal flies by, and often, if I’m lucky, watching hummingbirds feast on purple salvia.

In the early evening Rebecca and I will walk out and sit on the porch. Even our conversations seem to be more peaceful and relaxed. Conversations seem to be more open and honest. It is the most relaxing part of the day, a time for conversation with people or a time to listen and watch nature and wildlife or simply be alone to plan the day or read my iPad. I haven’t got to experience enjoying the soothing sounds of gentle rains and cracking thunder but I am sure it’s coming and let’s not forget returning to the porch later in the evening, lighting candles and enjoying cool breezes and crescent moons. If the kitchen is the heart of the house the porch is the soul.

I found it interesting to read about how Southern states turned porches into an art form. Look at some of the old plantations. They copied some of the Greek’s obsession with columns and built these Greek revival mansions with magnificent verandas. I think of Gone With The Wind or Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. A lot of porch action in those two movies. I think us Southerners have mastered the art of “porching”.

I have a back porch with two ceiling fans. Rebecca has bought furniture and Arlo seems to even like it. Local Southern lore teaches us that a pale blue painted porch ceiling keeps away evil spirits and our peskiest Southern companions, mosquitos. We didn’t paint the ceiling pale blue which I guess explains all those freaking mosquitoes. Damn those mosquitoes.

Porching. Try it yourself. When all else fails, go porching, and soon everyone will be content. Or expressed another way, chillin’ on a porch for an extended amount of time soothes the mind.

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