eating on the porch

Growing up in East Tennessee, in a house with no airconditioning, we started eating on the porch in April and didn't move inside until we had to - sometime shortly before Halloween. Eating indoors was kind of exotic after 6 months of the porch. The walk from the kitchen with the dishes seemed so amazingly quick!

Now I live in a condo in Oak Park, IL, and I'm lucky if it there's even one day when it hits 70 degrees before May 1. Today, in fact, is May 31, and it was barely 70 today. The imprinting of childhood is so strong that I still find this shocking, despite years upon years of living in the midwest. (I like the midwest, so that's ok.)

I bought this condo last summer. By the time I was the right and proper owner and was fully moved in, it was the height of summer. So I am experiencing my first spring here. Last summer I wanted a casual, cocktail-type table for my condo balconey, and I ordered something that was a great price from Sierra Trading Post but it seemed wrong. In my infinitely procrastinating wisdom I never sent it back, and a couple of days ago I had a friend coming over for lunch on a day when it seemed to be reaching 70 degrees, so I got it out, since it was all I had.

And I realized that this table is perfect for two people to eat a meal at. My friend and I sat at it and enjoyed our lunch, but I didn't understand the full significance at first. Tonight it hit me, though. This evening, my daughter and I had dinner "on the porch" for the first time, as a family ritual, like the ritual family dinners of my childhood, outside, in the cool of the evening. Aaahhhhhh. This seems like an important blessing for our new home.

Growing up, I did not understand why my parents loved eating on the porch so much, but now I do.

(This makes me miss my mother - she would have liked this posting. Oh well.)