contribution : katherine shell ponders the porch

My grandmother Mimi’s porch is the first one I can remember.  She and my grandfather had it encased in glass so that he could sit out there and cane chairs during the last years of his life.  By the time I sat on that porch, it had been many years since GrandBob had smoked his pipe and caned chairs, watching traffic trickle by on Elm Street in Newnan, Georgia.

Mimi's Porch

My grandmother kept children’s books, dolls, and toys on her porch, mostly for the children she tutored until she was 84 or so, but also for me, my older sister, and my cousins.  Most of the toys had been passed down from grandchild to grandchild, and my cousin’s daughters still play with some of the toys I used to know so well.  My grandmother’s porch was where I learned the capitals of all the states from the older children she tutored and where the magical aloe plant lived that would soothe the burns from hot pans and scrapes from the monkey bars in her backyard.  It was also where I ran if I had a kitten I couldn’t convince my mother to adopt or if I needed a plant for my bare post-college apartment.  Somehow, everything I needed I could find on that porch.

Venus, in Lexington, Va

When I was much, much older, the porches of our college and post-college houses served as places for kegs, parties, get-togethers, girls’ pictures, grill-outs, late night conversations, and summer dinner parties.  Our houses weren’t much to speak of, but we had some fantastic porches.  The first house I lived in during college, 'Venus', had a porch smaller than the bathroom, and we would crowd 8 or 10 people there, spilling wine and just chatting, until even the most laid-back person started to get nervous about a cave-in.  With no air-conditioning, sitting on the porch was leaps and bounds preferable to being indoors.  

    Now, in DC, our porch is a gathering place for secrets and sharing, as well as catching up and relaxing.  During warm months, we pull our dining room chairs there and eat dinners, glass of wine in hand. During the upcoming months, I’ll spend more time on my porch than I do in my bedroom or living room.  Our porch is where we have lengthy conversations about life, and love, and tragedy, and a few fluffier conversations as well.

Hammock on the Porch at Sea Island

    The porch on my dream house would mirror the most relaxing porch I know:  that on the beach house of my best friend from college.  The porch runs the length of the house, with tall, tall ceilings, sprinkled with fans and rocking chairs, screened in to prevent bugs, and overlooking the bay off Sea Island.  (The hammock to the side also makes for a pretty spectacular napping location).  To me, this porch is the culmination of functionality and Southern design:  warm, inviting, timeless, chic in its stark white walls and simple in its wooden floors, with plenty of places for visitors to sit and enjoy the view.  - katherine shell