A Porch (by any other name would be as sweet)

My neighbor is having a new porch built. It is replacing the old one, and not drastically different, but there is something about the actual word that just makes me want to sit outside (maybe with a cup of coffee) and watch it being built.

A porch always looks so optimistic; it welcomes you into a home, and implies that wonderful things could happen on the other side of the door.

My own porch is barely big enough to stand on, but I still love having it. It shelters me in the Winter, when it is snowing and my frozen hands are filled with groceries, and it keeps the entrance cool when it is unbearably hot in July. The rest of the time it is an accessory to my small house, framing my red door, and showing people where to go when they want to visit.

I am trying to grow tomatoes and strawberries on it this year. Usually, the squirrels eat them, so I decided to put them in a hanging basket, and am hoping that they will get enough sun to grow a few pieces of fruit.  I also have petunias in a wrought iron basket, lined with a bit of moss; they are starting to grow, and the flowers are lazily playing hide and seek with the doorbell.

As small as it is, I know the possibilities for my porch are endless. But, even if I do very little, just saying the word makes me very, very happy!