Wednesday, March 22, 2017

After Dark Porch Sit

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I tinkered outside for about 45 minutes before dark this evening. I got three blocks seated as supports for my mill frame, but didn’t get the fourth corner done. Oh well, something to do another day, I guess. By that time, I knew the Mighty Dachshund would need to drain, so I went inside and leashed her up and brought her out, along with my flashlight. I let her pee in our graveled driveway, but took her to the north edge of the lawn to dump, and it was too dark to step there without a flashlight. She didn’t need to do anything, though, and just stood there and sniffed the slight breeze.

Returning to the porch, I took my seat in the swing and made her lie on the welcome mat, since it would be warmer than the concrete. At this point, I can still see through the woods and watch headlights coming on the highway, the lights from the neighbor’s house about a quarter mile away, and even the lights from the airport, about five miles away on another hilltop. In another two or three weeks, I suspect that ability will be gone for several months, as the trees leaf out and block my view. As it is, I can see headlights drop into the saddleback out the ridge and disappear for a few seconds before reappearing on this side and continuing past our home. Even the pooch notices when one car doesn’t reappear, meaning that it turned into the housing development which has an access road entering the country road in the saddleback (“low-gap” in country parlance).

Gradually, I see an airplane’s lights coming from the direction of the airport. The pooch sees them, too, and watches them with interest. Eventually, it gets in hearing distance and it becomes obvious to me that it’s a small single engine plane. The pooch continues to watch as it passes fairly near the house and then onward in a southwest direction.

A couple farms over, two coyotes can be heard, the first I’ve heard here for two years. I hope the farmer gets them before they raise more. The Mighty Dachshund would get nervous if the sound was closer, but she seems to feel safe at the obvious distance. They soon grow silent, but only a few minutes later, a bass-voiced hound on the farm on the other side of us starts complaining about trespassers and my little dog seems concerned.

As always, I can hear the traffic on the four-lane a mile or two west of here. Rain is supposed to be on the way, though, so it’s a little louder than normal. It’s in the 50’s this evening; I don’t know why the skeeters aren’t bothering us, but I’m thankful. As the swing starts to remind my backside that it’s made of unpadded wood, I decide that we porch-sitters have been here long enough. The lamp inside lights up the nine small panes of stained glass, salvaged from an old home being demolished, that I incorporated into my front door when I built it 37 years ago. As the door opens, the soft yellow light floods out into the darkness, making the inside seem warm and welcoming. The pooch looks up at me as I unleash her, seemingly content with my decision to come inside. There’s always another day, but if not, so be it; this has been a good one. © 2017
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6 comments:

Vicki said...

Porch-sitting. One of my favorite things. I no longer have a porch, so thank you for sharing yours.

Sunnybrook Farm said...

Sounds like a nice spring evening. I have wheelbarrows in the way so I can't sit on the porch yet but I really like sitting out there especially when nothing is on TV. We have lots of mosquitoes at times so they screened in the porch back in the 50s, not the best looking thing I have seen but it sure is nice to sit and relax without the bugs attacking.

Lady Locust said...

Being thankful for those little things is certainly a grand gesture:)

Fimbul myrk said...

That´s a cool post, and I can pretty much relate to many of the things you say. Golden light that welcomes you in, the yellow light of a home is more precious than actual riches. I hope that you can have a lot more days like this!

Gorges Smythe said...

Anytime I can, Vicki!

The roof went bad on our screened in porch; I hope to get it fixed this year.

It seems like the little things that make life worth it, LL.

Me too, Fimbul myrk, And I wish you the same.

Janet said...

From looking at some of your privacy links, your porch may be the best place to relax.