Friday thing : porch desk
(Disclosure: It's not technically mine...)
My neighbor bestie & I used to relish bargain hunting together at the local bougie1 neighborhood garage sales. We’d pile our bags & bins into her mammoth Suburban then head out around 7am, grab coffees, and start shopping as soon as sellers let us onto their driveways. We typically had different wish list items, which was perfect because there would be no fights and we’d help each other search. We promised to be honest about each other’s potential purchases - clothing & shoes especially but also pieces of furniture, though it can be hard to dissuade someone from anything that’s only a few dollars, even if it might ultimately be a bad decision. And as it turned out, a lot of our bad (or at least unsound) decisions were boons for the other person. For example, my beloved Porch Desk was originally her purchase; I traded her a different retro school desk2 I wasn’t using for this one.
Even when it’s cold outside, I love to sit here with my tea and a book (and thick blanket, long socks, gloves) to take in the fresh air & quiet. Occasionally I’ve been startled by a stealthy jogger rustling past at predawn or a neighbor on their early dogwalk; I’ve startled them as well, when they think they’re passing by still-sleeping houses and suddenly I sneeze on the shadowy porch. Once I spied a raccoon digging in a flower bed across the cul de sac, but she scurried before I could lift my phone for a photo. From this spot, I’ve [desperately] tried making friends3 with the squirrels, juncos, scrub jays, and crows by tossing pieces of fruit or seedy toast into the yard. I have managed to endear hummingbirds with a feeder hung nearby, though they’re also quick to chastise me in their Woodstock voices when the food runs low.
I’ve read hundreds of books4 + written two of my four winning Poetry Moves poems out on the porch along with thousands of other words I need to eventually look at again, before I become the West Coast discount Emily Dickinson.5
This good old wooden desk has not only served me well for reading & writing but it’s also been an excellent platform for seasonal props: the slate snowman, tiny pumpkins, our old Halloween skeleton. It’s also a good spot for package deliveries, treats from neighbors (the ones I’m not startling in the dark), and whatever I’m holding when wrestling my keys out to unlock the door.
I’ve been neglecting time outside in the mornings lately. It is winter, and my warm bed is so much more appealing, but I need to get out there again soon for breaths of brisk air and that refreshing early stillness. And, before we have to leave this neighborhood; my husband’s job has moved a few hours north so we’ve been looking at new houses. But I’m only entertaining the ones that have a porch.
We didn’t discriminate against less bougie neighborhoods, but the wealthier folks tended to practically give away their no longer stylish high-end clothes & furniture, in an attempt to get that passé shit out of their sight asap, I presume? So we stopped there for first pick.
It was the kind with a laminate top and big metal pocket for supplies, but both of those features made it an exceptionally cold place to sit on my porch reading or writing.
No real luck yet. I think other neighbors offer up junk food, so I’m essentially the lady who hands out raisins at Halloween.
Check out my Instagram where I mostly post pseudo-artsy pics of book covers, usually with a relevant mug though not always on the porch.
This is not meant to be a bad thing - I think she was pretty satisfied overall with how she lived & wrote. Plus imagining people reading what I write makes me sweaty, and thinking of me reading my work aloud brings waves of nausea. So, post-mortem appreciation/fame would be fine actually.
We will find you that porch!