Porch Days

Some of the best adventures are found on the front porch. There is something special about a porch, don’t you think?  It’s a great place to take time just to sit a few moments to relax and sort your thoughts. It’s also the place to take a trip without even going anywhere.

There have been many days when the grandkids would sit with me on the porch and ask for stories. They have asked for stories about my ancestors from days long gone and of their wild west adventures. I’ve also been asked to tell familiar childhood stories in the voice of the big bad wolf or one of the three little pigs.

Porches add to our arsenal of memories. When I was a kid, I loved to sit on the porch with my granddad. I’d rub his bald head so his hair would grow. He would let me roll his Bull Durham tobacco cigarettes. They were so loose the ashes would fall on his shirt and burn little holes. We’d swing for hours. Whenever a storm came, he would go sit on the porch swing, and I’d go with him. I’d be scared to death because of the thunder and lightning and would stay tucked up under his armpit.  He taught me respect for the storms. That’s where I learned that nitrogen came from lightning and nourished the soil for the crops.  We all need the rain.  I learned that storms come along in our lives, and they are for our good to teach us lessons of life. That’s also where I heard tales from long gone times of his childhood and youth. I heard stories of his “batching” days when he and old John followed the harvest season all the way into Canada to work on the threshing crews.   

Sometimes the porch swing brought other memorable events.  One such day, we were sitting in the swing and my brother crossed the road into the pasture.  My grandfather told him, as he had many times before, to stay away from the mama cow.  She had a new calf.  Well, any of you who know my brother also know that he is his own adjective.  If one of the kids are told they act like or look like Uncle B, they know exactly what that means!  Anyway, he had that grin plastered on his face and decided to tempt fate and that mama cow. He sauntered toward that calf.  Down went the mama cow’s head!  She pawed the ground and started for him.  Daddy Bee hollered and told that boy he’d “better get.” Well, he “got” as fast as he could, running all out toward the barbed wire fence.  The mama cow was faster, but my brother had a head start.  He barely made it to the fence and slid under the bottom wire.  I know exactly what is meant when someone says they “escaped by the seat of their pants.” If he had been any bigger or his britches any looser, they would have gotten snagged by that barb and the rest of him would have been snagged by that mad mama cow.  

 Ah…. porch days  … I think I may need an afternoon trip.  Any takers?