Tomorrow will be the first day of summer. One of the perks of the season that I miss, the screened-in porch that was part of the house on the farm where I grew up.
My parents were always renters–never owners. When we moved onto the farm located northwest of Durand on March 1, 1947, we had four landlords because the original owner, Uncle Ole, had died and left the acreage to his middle-aged, nieces and nephews. A lot of updating was needed in the house. Professional craftsmen added a bathroom and a kitchen with hot and cold running water, our first taste of modern plumbing.
The front porch needed new screens. When school was out in June, one of the ladies, Nellie, an old-maid, elementary teacher, handled that job. She was a tall, friendly woman who had a well-padded frame that filled out the bib overalls she wore over a short-sleeved blouse. She welcomed this nine-year-old girl who had nothing to do but watch her wield tools like a carpenter. She laid the old, wooden frames across saw-horses and repainted them black. The next day, she measured out the metal screening and cut it with tin snips. To hold the edges in place, she pounded small nails through the narrow laths that fit the frames.
That porch was the ideal place to enjoy warm weather. It was on the east side of the two-story house out of the hot, afternoon sun. The structure had a roof so it could be used when it was raining unless a wind was blowing the shower about. At the end of the day, we could sit out there and not be bothered by mosquitoes or other bugs. Mom often read the daily newspaper while it was still light. Dad moved a cot out there to sleep on during hot nights. When I came home from a date with Kenny, I shut the door softly and tiptoed across the wooden floor so I didn’t wake my father.
We no longer have porches–we have decks, which have no roofs and are open to all the flying insects.
Are there amenities no longer popular that you miss?