For as long as I can remember, I have been enamored of houses with expansive front porches.  I have dreamed of sitting in a white wicker rocker on the shady porch of my future home.  I imagined myself reading in the sunshine, occasionally glancing up past a row of hanging baskets overflowing with fuchsia and lobelia blossoms.  Two summers ago while visiting Prince Edward Island, I took photos of two lovely front porches.  These photos have inspired the following photo essay.

 

PEI front porches. (photos by L. Walkins)

On Monday morning, Margaret brought her steaming mug of cinnamon tea and her library book out onto her front porch and settled into her wicker rocker.  The street was quiet.  Presumably, all of her neighbors were at work or school.

She sipped her fragrant tea and glanced at the silver watch on her narrow right wrist.  Ten forty.  And here she was dressed in yoga pants and a Yale polo shirt on her porch with the whole empty day stretched out in front of her.  The life of a retiree.

A month ago, she would have been poring over manuscripts at her desk in her cozy office on Church Street in New Haven.  For more than thirty years, she had built a career as a picture book editor.  She had so enjoyed the creative process of guiding the artists and writers as they collaborated.  All of Margaret’s  hard work had culminated in a celebratory retirement party at Modern Apizza.  At the end of the evening, her young colleagues had wished her well with looks of envy.

Of what exactly were they envious, she wondered now.  Margaret did not enjoy feeling at loose ends, purposeless.  She set down her mug and opened her book.  After reading a couple of paragraphs, she set aside the novel, Barbara Kingsolver’s latest.  She stood and stretched, her arms reaching up in a classic mountain pose.

Down on the street an unfamiliar dark SUV rumbled toward the corner.  The car slowed to a crawl at the stop sign.  The back door slid open and a brown and white tabby cat tumbled out.

“Hey, wait!” Margaret called out as the SUV turned the corner and disappeared.  She hurried down her porch steps and strode up the sidewalk to where the poor cat stood looking around in confusion.

Margaret crouched down a few feet from the lost little creature.  “Hello, kitty,” she said in a soothing voice.  “Come here.”

The cat meowed and sidled up to her.  The cat looked well fed and wore a royal blue collar.  Had the people in the SUV just abandoned their pet?  How could they do that?

Carefully reaching out, Margaret picked up the fluffy cat and carried it to her porch.  She smiled as the cat began to purr.

Setting down the kitty, Margaret perched on the edge of the wicker rocker.  She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and asked, “What are we going to do with you, huh?”

The cat jumped onto the wicker love seat across from Margaret and kneaded its floral cushion before curling up into a contented ball.

“Make yourself at home, sweetie,” Margaret said.  She watched the lovely cat with fond eyes and thought about all of the abandoned pets at the local shelter.

The family next door had adopted a friendly Scottish terrier from the shelter a few months ago, and recently the local news station had aired a feature about the shelter.  The organization was housed in a bright, clean facility and staffed by enthusiastic and dedicated animal lovers.

“Perhaps they need volunteers, ” Margaret mused aloud.  She would call them this very afternoon.