Porch Views

It's still there.

A plastic bag filled with dog poop rests on the pavement near the Sack's centre circle. A car, parked overnight at the circle's curb, is hiding the bag's presence. But I know it's still there.

More than a week has passed since the bag of poop appeared on the street. Your agent, of course, has pledged to stay out of the matter. Someone else can take responsibility for disposing of the bag. I've done my share of unclaimed garbage removal.

But this is turning out to be a real test of my stamina.

***

It was Good Friday in the Sack.

Spring weather had forsaken us, as the air remained cool and brisk. The sun was out for most of the day, but every now and then, clouds gathered and light snow flurries fell harmlessly on the ground.

Once, for about five minutes, a mass of wet flurries filled the air while the sun was still shining brightly.

Weather-wise, it was a weird day.

***

Late in the afternoon, your agent felt the need for some fresh air.

The first half of the day had been spent indoors in peaceful, relaxing pursuits. Mrs. Wonders was engrossed in a book as she reclined in the front room. She had pledged to join me for a walk when she finished her current chapter. It was turning out to be one of the longest in modern literary history.

Strolling about in the backyard, I carried out a brief inspection of the area. There was no particular purpose in the task, of course. On such a calm, serene day, it seemed inappropriate to engage in any domestic labour. Eventually, I walked toward the front of the house to do more of the same.

After poking around the front yard, I sat down on the porch steps. After living most of my life in apartment buildings, porch-sitting remains as one my favourite aspects of home ownership.

If it were up to me, everyone would have porch steps at their disposal.

***

Most people would say that porch-sitting offers great opportunities for social interaction. In the Sack, this is certainly true.

Nevertheless, it's not my favourite aspect of the matter. Some of life's most interesting moments can be found in the solitude of the front step. From this vantage point, the stories of people's lives unfold right in front of the eye. In these moments, the company of others is neither necessary nor helpful. Sometimes, great attention is needed to see the stories within the seemingly normal or unremarkable aspects suburban life.

This is hard to do when Oscar is jabbering in your ear about something.

***

Most of the time, of course, it's difficult to find solitude on the porch steps. Even when Oscar isn't around, someone will inevitably come along. Before you know it, you will have more than your fair share of social interaction.

But those rare moments of solo porch-sitting can still provide amusement. At times, it can be just as captivating as a good book or a compelling movie. In fact, if you have enough patience, you can also catch a glimpse of occasional cul-de-sac shenanigans, right in front of your eyes.

This is why porch steps are sometimes like stadium seats.

***

One summer, while enjoying a cup of tea on the Wonders' front steps, I saw Little Doug fall from a ladder. He didn't fall very far and thankfully, he wasn't hurt. But he did, however, land in a muddy garden bed. The seat of his pants and the back of his shirt were caked in soggy, black soil.

Oscar was envious that your agent had actually witnessed the affair. He said he would've paid good money to see it himself. He even tried to get Little Doug to perform a re-enactment of the fall, but Little Doug was steadfast in his refusal.

Nevertheless, the whole affair was quite entertaining.

***

When young Doo was about four-years-old, I saw him tearing around the Sack on his bicycle. Other than a bike helmet on his head, he was completely naked. The bike had training wheels attached to the rear tire, but only one was touching the ground.

Doo circled the pavement around the Sack's centre circle. His mom gave chase about six feet behind him. Doo's mom was wearing her favourite sweatshirt. It's a garment she wears with some frequency, so I'm only assuming it's her favourite. On the front of the sweatshirt are the words, Foxy Lady.

Eventually, she corralled young Doo and force-marched him back to their house. Later, I would learn that he had bolted from the house while getting ready for a visit to his grandparents' home. He had bike-riding on his mind that day, so a major confrontation quickly ensued. Doo had fled from the house in his birthday suit, pausing at the door to pick up his helmet.

From a porch-sitting perspective, it was also a very entertaining affair.

***

On another warm summer afternoon, I watched Elizabeth as she mowed her front lawn. Suddenly, as she marched back and forth, she was accosted by a persistent wasp.

In self defence, she began with a few sudden, emphatic waves of her hand. Unfortunately, this only made matters worse. Waving her arms around her head, she started to backpedal away from the agitated insect.

It wasn't long before Elizabeth abandoned this strategy and began to run in mad circles across her lawn. By this time, she was emitting short, high-pitched shrieks as her arms flailed above her head.

Quite suddenly, she changed tactics again. She resumed her backpedalling strategy, but continued to wave her arms in the air. Unfortunately, hurried backpedalling is not a good idea on a downward slope. There is always the chance of a nasty spill.

Elizabeth, of course, eventually lost her footing and landed awkwardly on her bottom. She rolled on the ground a few times before staggering to her feet. This time she put her head down and moved quickly toward the safety of her front door. The lawn mower was still running as it sat in the middle of her front lawn.

Now that, my friends, was entertainment.

***