A View from the Porch

It finally started raining around 10:30 last night. The grumble of the thunderstorm drew me out to the porch, and that’s pretty much where I’ve spent the last 24 hours. My rocking chair, my laptop, my cats, a good book, and a great thunderstorm. [Crikey; am I turning into Celestine Sibley?]

My chubby little toes and I enjoy the rainstorm from the porch

I have a great little porch. It’s set into the building, so my neighbors can’t see me when I’m out here. I look out onto trees, so there’s nothing but green in front of me. Nobody else has been on their porches or patios this weekend, so I've had the back to myself. I turned off the music early this afternoon so that I could enjoy the rattle of rain and the silence of Sunday. It’s barely drizzling now. The birds are back to singing, and I’ve spent the last 20 minutes watching a lizard slither around the ground. Everything’s so green, so quiet. Hard to believe I’m just a mile or so from Peachtree.

[Good Lord, I am turning into Celestine Sibley, aren’t I?]

Maggie’s view from the porch

I came out this morning with my friend Walter’s latest novel. I love spending a Sunday reading a book from cover to cover. Today's book — Feet of Clay, published under his pen name Ruth Birmingham — is a good, quick-read murder mystery set in Georgia. Walter writes a strong female character, but he may get a lecture on perpetuating the overtly racist Southern gentleman stereotype. Still recommend it, though, if you’re a mystery fan.

Shameless plug: If you’re in Atlanta, pick up Feet of Clay or any number of titles at Chapter 11 Books, a good local chain that’s coming back from, well, chapter 11. (Perry, I would have linked the book to y’all, but you don’t have separate URLs for individual titles.) If you’re not in Atlanta, you can order online and support an independently owned bookstore.

Otto’s view from the porch

I had a meltdown and long cry with my best friend today. There’s a lot going on that has left me scared and lonely and heartbroken, and I just couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. I tend to let people think that life is great and sunny and fun and full of music … when instead I want to cry and scream and have someone listen to me. I’m truly blessed to have that beautiful friend, who tells me she’s happy that I’m crying and feeling sorry for myself. My façade doesn’t fool her, but she knows me well enough to be patient for the occasional meltdown. I can’t say I feel any less sad or scared, but I know I’m deeply loved. As she says, change is scary — but good will come from it. At least I have a good porch.

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