I’ve taken to the porch this morning with a cup of coffee and my camera.
It’s supposed to be over 100 today, and I can feel the humidity rising. But there’s a breeze, and it’s comfortable.
I love this porch. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere again without one.
We added this porch when we moved in. The house used to have a porch, but my in-laws removed it when they moved the house to this site and never added it back on.
Stories swirl in and around this house.
I move from west side to south side, just looking, watching, thinking, snapping photos. I sit in rocker and then swing.
And, maybe for the first time, I see deep. I see that everything I see has a story.
Not just the man that drives past, but the tractor he’s riding on.
Not just the people in the house across the road, but the house itself.
Each tree, from a seed to a seedling to a towering shelter.
Each bird, from an egg to flight to a song.
Each piece of wood on this porch hammered in place by the Amish men who built it.
Everything has a story.
Each color and each sound.
Everything can be traced back to story upon story.
To the beginning of the story.
Joining Lisa Jo today for her Five Minute prompt on story.
And sharing a Graceful Summer with Michelle.