It is the month of June,
The month of leaves and roses,
When pleasant sights salute the eyes
And pleasant scents the noses.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
It seems like a lot of living took place on porches in times past. The porch was like an extension of the living room because it was cooler out on the porch when the summer’s heat became uncomfortable. There wasn’t air conditioning so houses were often built so that they were situated where the breeze would waft across the porch and there was a roof that protected porch sitters from the sun and rain. Essentially, all the work that could possibly be done outdoors was transported to the porch where it was cooler and it seemed to make the job more enjoyable just by being outside in nature’s living room.
Porches were used for many things. Women did needle work or rocked babies, men whittled or fixed things, and children played
I found a tip on line recently and it looked very useful for serving refreshments when you are outside to keep bugs, leaves, and other unwelcome guests from joining you for drinks: Just top glasses with little hats, otherwise known as baking cups. Cut a small X into the center of each liner, poke a straw through the hole, and enjoy your beverage worry and pest free.
The only glass I had in the cupboard that would fit my cup cake liners was a wine glass so now I'm going to be on the lookout for some jumbo sized, that will fit my lemonade glasses.
When I get edgy I like to go sit in my glider, put a pitcher of home-made iced tea on the table, get a tall glass of ice and sit there sipping tea all afternoon. This is truly living.
On a side note, I have to say that the last few mornings have been quite chilly here and the patio has been my place of choice and then only after the afternoon sun has warmed it up a bit. Warmer days are coming though so right now I'm just thankful for what warmth I have.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.
James Russell Lowell