I don't know about you, but I have been loving this weather the last couple weeks. It's been prime front porch viewing here on Hatcher Street.
That may not sound like that big a deal to you, but front porch sitting has been off the menu for me and my next door neighbors since about this time last year.
To be specific, Tater put a no porch gathering edict on Meat and any of his "legion of loonie loafers" which, inexplicably, includes me. To underscore the point, she put all the porch chairs and tables in a shed behind the house. She even took down the porch swing and hung a "No Loitering Losers" sign from the dangling chains.
I tried not to take it personally at the time, even if that sign was best seen from my front door. Tater was just trying to keep Meat safe from me, his posse and himself. It's not that we try to draw a crowd, but seems like every time Meat and I sit down on his front porch for a refreshing cold beverage and reflection, a gathering of neighbors and passerby follows.
Or at least that's what happened before last May. For nearly a year now, Meat's porch has been a lonely place for neighbors with beverages, refreshingly cold or not. And what of my porch you might ask?
What porch? would be my reply. The polite term for what lies before my front door is a stoop. I promise I did not make that up. I'd never stoop that low. Let's just say there's no chairs on my front stoop, much less a swing. And who'd want to swing in a stoop swing anyway?
So it was a glorious day last week when Tater, without fanfare or explanation, replaced the front porch chairs, tables and swing. She even added a couple of new plants. She left the sign on my stoop.
The occasion, of course, is she and Meat have both had the two shot vaccine. Three weeks after their second shot, the porch is as good--and inviting--as new. A new sign next to the door reads, "Vaccination or vamoose".
I spent a couple of glorious porch hours with the pair this past weekend. Tater didn't even make me wear my mask. It was just like old times, those forgotten days before a pandemic turned us all into isolated insomniacs.
You're probably wondering what we covered in our revelry and I'd probably have a hard time with specifics. There were refreshing cold beverages, after all. But I'm pretty sure we touched on all the important subjects of the day like whether our state senator actually believes those social media posts that make him look like a fool or if a quarter of the population refuses to get vaccinated against a deadly disease how long will it be before we get universal healthcare.
We had fun with all of those. All we got serious about were the pinks, the lavenders, the oranges and yellows and reds, and the pure whites in the blossoms and blooms exploding all over the hillsides. The blessings of spring.
A porch is a great place to gather. It's best when it reflects all the colors in our world.