From My Front Porch ~Little Log Cabin in the Woods

I am delighted to team up with one of my dearest friends in all the world, Elizabeth Ours, who hosts the blog ~Yes They're All Ours.  She lives on the warm and sunny Georgia cost, while we are nestled in the SC mountains where these early spring mornings are still cool and crisp.

My wish list was short when we built this little cabin in the woods more than a decade ago, but my one chief requests was the largest front porch we could manage.  We call it our 3.5 season porch. We make this porch work nearly all year, except for the very coldest winter days. To introduce this new blog adventure, I will give you a sneak peek at my porch. Then stay tuned for weekly updates as we take a deep breath of fresh mountain air and savor the moment.  

Spring ~ In the mornings it is still nippy enough to grab a blanket and wear a sweater as my husband and I meet for our morning coffee/tea conversation.  Sometimes, it is nearly wordless as we breathe in the newness of life ~ cool morning, the first chirps of new birds, honking flocks of geese making their way home, the bright greening of the freshly budding trees. Slowly, slowly, slowly,  the mountains that frame my view, disappear in a sea of green. It is bittersweet. p.s.to my husband: I said "nearly" wordless, Honey, not completely. ;-)



Summer ~ Shade from the hot Carolina sun is welcome anytime of day, but there is nothing like getting up to watch the sun crack through the darkness and hear the woods wake up in the the fleeting and barely cool mornings. Shade and lemonade make the porch bearable in the heat of the day, but even on the most sweltering summer night, there is nothing quite like the creak of the swing, in the black of night, listening to the  rhythmic symphony of crickets and critters.  Best of all is listening to my husband whistle to the Whipper-will that nestles in the canopy of Oak, and Elm and Pine. 

Fall ~  I could scarcely choose a favorite season for my front porch, but the blazing reds and oranges and yellow of falling leaves is tempting. These are the days of crisp breezes, the sound of falling acorns that pierce the quiet, busy, busy squirrels banking for winter, camp fires, and my porch full of people swapping stories, songs, jokes, and hearts. Each day paints a portrait of change, quietly at first, then in magnificent splendor and suddenly, the wind and rain, wash away the color into a lingering drabness of brown and gray.

Winter ~ Brown, and gray and white! The clear white icicle lights go up at Thanksgiving and we can hardly bear to take them down until spring has sprung.  Every now and then, a blanket of glistening ice and snow grace the porch.  At first, it is quiet and you can sneak a peek at tiny little birdie foot prints in the snow on the railings and the icicles dripping from the roof line.  Before long, it will be littered with stray snow boots and sleds and noisy, excited kids on a search for hot cocoa. 

 Though I have always patiently waited for winter to pass, it has only been from my front porch that I begged spring to come more slowly.  I bundle up in socks and hat and gloves and blanket upon blanket to sit in awe of my mountains.  I know they are not mine alone, but mine nonetheless.  We are friends!  They stand fast and I admire them. That's how we roll.  They speak. I listen.  They testify to something so much bigger and grander and glorious than anything I can imagine.  They hold stories that will never be told, but I sit and I count my blessings one by one. With warmer days, the gray gives way to green and slowly, slowly, slowly I watch each day as my mountains are going, going, gone. No worries.  I embrace the season, allergies and all, and know that after the green, after the crickets, after the red and orange and yellow, comes the gray.




You might like this post about a Silvery, Winter Wonderland:  Grace Abounds