The porch that built me

Some of my most formative moments unfolded on my parents’ porch.

As a girl, a perfect summer day was not complete without a long, lazy afternoon curled up in the white wicker rocking chair as I read away the hours.  Nancy Drew took me on adventures.  The Babysitters Club inspired an entrepreneurial spirit.  As a teenager, I slogged through the newspaper until — after months of reading and building background knowledge — I could finally talk somewhat intelligently about current events.

When we got the referral to adopt my youngest sister on a cold December day, my middle sister and I stampeded out to the porch barefoot, screaming the news at the top of our lungs to the neighbors (the closest of whom lived a quarter mile away), “We’re going to get a sister!”

I shared secrets with my best friend and broke up with at least one sort-of boyfriend sitting on the front porch steps.  It has seen flirting and tears.

Two weeks before Chris’ and my wedding, my dad (or maybe it was my mom…) decided that, with all the family coming into town for the big day, the porch’s cracked paint simply had to go.  I volunteered to take care of the job, but after days of scraping peeling gray paint for hours on end, I called in the reinforcements.  What started out as a solo project became a family affair with plenty of teasing and laughter that I treasured when Chris and I moved away.

Yes, a porch is a special place.  It’s a place to get comfortable.  To sit.  To relax.  To watch as the neighborhood moseys along. To simply be.

This spring has been unseasonably warm in the PNW, so I’ve already taken it upon myself to spruce up our porch.  The exterior of our house has a farmhouse style, so I wanted the front porch to have a laid-back, rural feel to it.


The “planter” on the ground is actually an old chicken feeder.  I wish I knew where the base was, but alas, it has disappeared. It would have made for excellent drainage.

Very Close Up

I found this metal drawer at a local barn sale.  It still has a paper hand-written label for “Hex Bolts” on the front of it!  I made the pillow out of a table cloth.  Yes, I was channeling my inner Maria VonTrapp.  Wait.  Those were curtains.  Whatever. I actually used these pillows inside before my interior decor became a bit more neutral.  Outdoors suits them!

Close Up

It’s not my parents’ porch, but I suspect it will be the origin of many more extraordinary moments in the years to come.



2 thoughts on “The porch that built me

  1. Love this post! I may have seen you reading away on your porch when I drove by the other day. Can’t wait to be able to do the same!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s