The weather on Friday made me realize I always wanted a porch. Not a house necessarily, but definetely a porch. It was the first real day of Spring, regardless of calendar timelines, and the neighbor kids were tearing across the front lawns, screaming and throwing footballs and doing stupid things involving skateboards and stairs as their mother lit a cigarette and watched. The sun was beginning to sink, but all the houses on the East side (my side) of the street are up on this hill that gives the front of our houses an extra wash of sun that's a special treat. I had a textbook open on my lap but I couldn't focus on it. I just loved the feeling of the sun on my face and watching the band boys across the street trickle out together to smoke and chill.
There are at least 6 houses on my side of the street that are nearly identical in build - same hill, same height, same porches. If you sit and look on either side, the houses are so close that the porches all seem to run together into one long surface, and each house had someone outside soaking in the refreshing warmth. Ohioans don't remember how much they miss the sun during the winter until it starts appearing at will in the early Spring weeks. I spent Friday afternoon at a park with a friend, eating burgers and sitting at the edge of the Olentangy river, watching the gulls wheel around and talking about books we'd recently read. On my porch, another friend came over later and talked for an hour with me, taking in the insanity of my street and waiting for the sound of breaking bones we were sure would soon follow.
This morning before leaving for work, I spent a few minutes on my back porch and marveled at the activity happening in my neighbor's pine tree. How could I ever think that snow on its branches was pretty when compared to all the delightful commotion going on in it now? I saw at least 4 different types of birds flitting in and out of the branches. A chubby mockingbird kept sneaking into my yard for bits of branches it found suitable for the nest it was in the middle of building. At least a dozen crows were doing synchronized chores, all pecking the ground and then suddenly without an audible signal rising back up into the branches, only to flutter back down together in the next yard. In the alley, a bird I couldn't recognize made a bold dive from a wire, barely catching itself before it hit the ground. Everything I could see and hear was alive with birds; I wish I could've gone outside sooner to watch more before I left for work.
When I came home from work late yesterday afternoon Carrie was reading on the front porch. Something about it, whether the warmth or the sunlight, made it easier to stop and sit down and visit with her. Usually I'm too busy being busy to slow down enough for my own roommates, but the sun and the oh-so-comfortable plastic chairs just made me want to stop for a few moments and catch up. We talked about her new grill and future summer parties in our backyard and many fun warm thoughts that start generating with Spring's beginning.
One of the kids a few porches over was getting a buzzcut and little hair were falling down his neck and making it itch and squirm. Carrie and I watched fascinated for a while, but didn't have the patience to wait until the finished product. It was time to move on with our day and cook dinner for ourselves. But I'm glad for moments like those on my porch. It makes studying for finals possible knowing that more moments like those are just around the corner.
There are at least 6 houses on my side of the street that are nearly identical in build - same hill, same height, same porches. If you sit and look on either side, the houses are so close that the porches all seem to run together into one long surface, and each house had someone outside soaking in the refreshing warmth. Ohioans don't remember how much they miss the sun during the winter until it starts appearing at will in the early Spring weeks. I spent Friday afternoon at a park with a friend, eating burgers and sitting at the edge of the Olentangy river, watching the gulls wheel around and talking about books we'd recently read. On my porch, another friend came over later and talked for an hour with me, taking in the insanity of my street and waiting for the sound of breaking bones we were sure would soon follow.
This morning before leaving for work, I spent a few minutes on my back porch and marveled at the activity happening in my neighbor's pine tree. How could I ever think that snow on its branches was pretty when compared to all the delightful commotion going on in it now? I saw at least 4 different types of birds flitting in and out of the branches. A chubby mockingbird kept sneaking into my yard for bits of branches it found suitable for the nest it was in the middle of building. At least a dozen crows were doing synchronized chores, all pecking the ground and then suddenly without an audible signal rising back up into the branches, only to flutter back down together in the next yard. In the alley, a bird I couldn't recognize made a bold dive from a wire, barely catching itself before it hit the ground. Everything I could see and hear was alive with birds; I wish I could've gone outside sooner to watch more before I left for work.
When I came home from work late yesterday afternoon Carrie was reading on the front porch. Something about it, whether the warmth or the sunlight, made it easier to stop and sit down and visit with her. Usually I'm too busy being busy to slow down enough for my own roommates, but the sun and the oh-so-comfortable plastic chairs just made me want to stop for a few moments and catch up. We talked about her new grill and future summer parties in our backyard and many fun warm thoughts that start generating with Spring's beginning.
One of the kids a few porches over was getting a buzzcut and little hair were falling down his neck and making it itch and squirm. Carrie and I watched fascinated for a while, but didn't have the patience to wait until the finished product. It was time to move on with our day and cook dinner for ourselves. But I'm glad for moments like those on my porch. It makes studying for finals possible knowing that more moments like those are just around the corner.
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