Porch time is, for me, a treasured time. We move to the screen porch after the dishes are done and light only candles. Crickets humming as background music, the squeak of the porch swing chain marking the slow rhythm of our conversation, we tell stories, laugh, sit quietly, and then by ones and twos, drift inside and to bed.
Clara was introduced to porch time tonight. She heard stories about her Uncle Joel getting seven shots at once when he was six years old, her Gramma hooting like an owl in answer to the next door neighbor boy's owl calls, her Mom and Dad's early conversations and house designs when they were but teens in Cameroon. There were a few jokes. She told one about cupcakes in the oven and we all laughed.
The porch is a special place. We all feel it. We all love it.