One hundred-fourteen years ago, the porches flanked the clap board house that sits in the curve of quiet country road. They still do actually and it took an hour to sweep away years of dried cowcumber, magnolia, camilia and azalea leaves yesterday. Western sun danced its way through the evergreens, across the ancient drive, to spotlight and flicker on the pine porch floor. Age showed through the layers of paint.
What color to paint the porch floor, once the house is washed down and repairs made? Pedestrian battleship grey? Nah… A bold white would be daring, but then keeping it clean would be a weekly must. Pale blue, with the beaded board ceilings also painted pale blue? I’ll let you know what I decide.
My neighbors stopped by today, while I was cleaning out a flower bed. I came home with fresh tomatoes and a Washington Parish watermelon. Woohoo! I promised to pass some pralines their way. It is said that “good fences make good neighbors”, well homemade treats help a lot too.
It was terribly hot today, so I quit on the flower bed and went to the sleeping porch to do some cleaning. I found a handful of marbles, three vintage Legos and a key. A few 1950’s curtain panels were saved: I’ll launder them and make cushions for the new porch furniture. I’ll invite the neighbors over for coffee and to sit a spell, just being neighborly.