A View From the Porch

Porches.  I love them. I have loved them since I was 8 or 9 years old.  My parents’ house, the house I grew up in, was next door to my grandparents’ house.  For a boy it was wonderful living next door to your grandma and grandpa.  I would wander next door to their house and would walk in the back door. I never knocked I just opened the door and walked in. My grandparents had a nice big porch.  The porch always had a porch swing, the kind you buy at Sears that had a metal frame with the seat bottom hanging from the frame by a chain.  My big sister, my cousins Nancy and Susie and I often sat in the swing talking and watching cars drive down 1500 East.  This swing was a place I often sat to watch summer thunder storms.  Maybe that was a mistake because of the metal construction of the swing but the porch was covered and I never thought about being fried by lightening.

My grandfather told me that when his house was first built, this area of Salt Lake City was rural and he sometimes shot pheasants from his front yard.

Houses with large porches always look like houses where families live, where there are Sunday dinners and summer evenings listening to crickets and other bugs.

The house that the Lovely Sharon and I live in Salt Lake has a nice porch.  In the summer we sometimes sit on the porch talking, watching humming birds and looking at the Hidden Valley Country Club golf course across the street.

I found these photos of porches on the internet.

Our Salt Lake Porch and Views from our Salt Lake Porch