The Power of Porches

The other day my husband and I were daydreaming about retirement and he said, “All I want to do is sit on a porch with my wife and watch the cars go by.”

Sweet, right? And oh, so accurate. I have been obsessed with porches my whole life. I didn’t grow up with a porch, but I remember hot summers sitting on my great-grandmother’s porch in Bowling Green, Kentucky, because it was cooler out there than in her stifling house. Mother Willie would sit in the rusted blue metal chairs and wave at every car that went by.

“Does she know everybody who drives by?” I asked my mother. Mama chuckled and said that’s just how “we” do things in the South.

We were blessed with a porch when our children were born, and I spent hours out there – talking on the phone, watching my daughter draw rainbows with sidewalk chalk, smelling the lilac bushes under the railing, watching fireworks in the distance. It was only after we moved out of state that I realized that porches in the Midwest are not that common. I miss it. A lot.

For Black folks, though, porches are just “six in one; half-dozen in another.” Substitute a porch for a stoop (hello, “227”!) and you have the same vibe. Community. Fresh air. Kids playing outside. Conversation. Cars passing by. Substitute a porch for an open garage door and you have the same vibe. My in-laws have resin rocking chairs just inside their garage and I have fallen asleep there more times than I can count.

What are some of your favorite porch/stoop/garage memories? What are your favorite ways to decorate? Tell us in the comments.