I spent the weekend moving from the soulless (sp?) apartment-complex apartment
my children and Ihave lived in for the past year into our new house. I still have a lot of unpacking to do, but all our stuff is now relocated.
I never could get comfortable in that apartment, which puzzled me. It was actually a really nice apartment, as they go. Everything was new and clean and worked well. It had a nice little kitchen and even a fireplace. There was a pool and a pond and plenty of green space. But the kids and I just never felt at home there.
For months I tried to convince them that they should like it -- that it was really a nice place -- but finally I just gave in and agreed with them that it felt empty and cold. I promised that we would buy a house as soon as we could, and now we have.
Our new house is very homey and warm. It is a working class family's bungalow
, built in 1930. It has wonderful wood trim and weird nooks and crannies, and lots of big windows. The yard is nice and the old city neighborhood has sidewalks. But best of all, it has a front porch
I grew up in houses with front porches and I like them. At my last house -which was a 50s rancher with no front porch where we lived from 1995-2002 -- we added a huge, elaborate deck on the back and I loved it, but I now realize that when you do all your hanging out and sitting and talking on the BACK side of your house, you miss seeing the world go by.
I like sitting on the front porch of our new house and I've even put a picnic table on it. I suspect we will eat a lot of meals out there and I look forward to meeting our neighbors and watching the activity of the street.
Some day I will likely add a back patio or deck for when we want more privacy, but I sure do like the front porch.