Last evening, some friends
came over for a brewski.
There was a light rain, so
we chose to sit on the porch.
Now, this 135 year old porch
is quite tiny and my gran's
high back chairs aren't really
comfortable.
Still . . . a few candles lit,
bottles in hand, conversation
flowing and all is rather
wondrous!
I get that the evening's delight
was all about the combination
of things. But, methinks that
porch is pure magic. Can't help
but wonder about all the things
that must have happened there
in days of yesteryear.
My cabin was built by a black
smith. In my mind's eye, I can
see him . . . exhausted after a
day's work, sitting on the porch,
maybe a homemade brew in
hand.
Who know's if his wife was
ever able to take a moment,
sip a cup of tea, rest from her
daily endeavors. Were there
children at her feet, perhaps
playing with bits and pieces
from dad's forge?
Frankly, I much lament that
porches seem to belong to
another era . . . they truly are
absolutely phenom!!!
dreams of yesteryear
olde bearer of memories
times long forgotten
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