Life on the porch

This part of July has brought with it a welcome surprise. Cool morning temperatures registering in the low 70s. Life -- and work -- on the porch has gladdened my days. Saturday and yesterday was I able to stay out here until about noon before the word uncomfortable began to register.

The porch is screened on three sides, jutting into the back yard. Two birdfeeders, one for hummers and the other for all the rest, are in my sightlines. I can see reflection of the sky on the pond through the woods between the house and the water. Construction on the residence across the pond is very slow (and the blue-wrapped structure is completely hidden by summertime leaves), so other than some traffic noise from Country Club Road, I'm not much mindful of others' activity as I sit here.

You could say my contentment is purely psychological. Coming out here with only the papers, books, emails I need to accomplish the current task has helped me focus. When I settle at my desk in the study, it's a different story. Everything is in there with me. No matter what I'm working on those things being neglected push and chide. I want to run screaming, my hands over my ears, my eyes tight shut.

In there I feel like the birdfeeder outside the study window did one day last week when the cow birds were migrating through. Dozens of drab birds fought over it, jockeying for position, fluttering and threatening. Then, without warning and in a single undulating movement, they would fly over the fence into the trees next door, only to return minutes later, scattering the young cardinals and the house and gold finch, bowing the limbs of the magnolia at the corner of the house the way heavy snow would.

When I'm on the porch my birdfeeder self can enjoy a bird or two at a time. And, the birds stick around. I can watch them at some leisure, appreciating them, their presence and their beauty. When I'm on the porch all the stuff that reminds me of how much I have to do is elsewhere. I finish one thing, put it all away and, the table cleared (not to mention my mind), I bring out the stuff for the next item on the list.

So, I'm grateful for the cool mornings, for this porch, the steadily weathering table at which I sit, the wireless house and the nearby electrical outlet when the computer's battery runs low. The much-coveted check marks on the "to do" list are appearing at a pace that makes me almost gleeful. And, in the midst of all that, I know what's going on in the yard, an endlessly fascinating screen, without commercials or startling volumn changes.

Mid-July on the porch. Who would have thunk it?