Eyes closed, head back, breeze enveloping me – I hear it even now: creak…creak. The sound of the porch swing, the chirps of the crickets and frogs.
It’s how time used to be whiled away – on a front porch when day’s work was done. It’s how many a mom quieted a fevered child, how many first dates led to first kisses, how many old men faces scratchy with whiskers rested tired bones.
Seasons were observed as legs dangled and moved back and forth, back and forth. First butterfly of spring, first firefly of summer, first fall leaf dropping, first bite of winter wind.
Neighbors were welcomed to the porch and could hear the creak…creak before they got to the first step. Sweating glasses of sweet tea were passed around. Stories were told… Family histories were handed down, children gathered round to hear grandma spin a tale, and all manner of gossip was whispered.
Before air conditioning, the porch swing was the cooling off place – sometimes it was the cooling off place in the heat of an argument. Always it was where the day ended. With last light of day fading into blackness the creak…creak slows and the screen door slams.
White, slatted boards and galvanized chain – these simple elements lead to lifetime memories…
thoughts on love, family, wine and food
PLaY CReaTivEly WitH YoUr LiTtLe OnE
PURSUING GOD WITH PASSION
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