Spring Renewal: A View from the Porch

Spring Renewal: A View from the Porch

Commentary by Steven A. Smith

Was it just me or did this winter seem interminable?

Most of our snow came before the first of the year, yet it seemed there was more snow than usual all winter. Not so. The data say it was about normal, even a bit below normal for the snow season.

It seemed colder than normal, too. And the skies seemed darker.

But the data say otherwise.

Maybe because I am getting older, the winters seem to stretch out as I wait for warmer temperatures and the green of leaves and grass. And somewhere in the back of my mind is the knowledge I have far fewer springs ahead of me than behind.

Still, we now have our spring. And with the return of a warm sun and soft breezes, I have returned to my porch.

My regular readers know all about my porch, a special place where I can watch the world roll by while reading The New York Times or sipping coffee or smoking a favorite cigar. The other day I was able to have my lunch on the porch.

I have lived in this house for more than eight years, a long time by my history. And the springtime view from the porch has not changed that much.

Except the neighborhood kids are older.

The little girl next door — I first met her as an infant — is now an articulate youngster, precocious, inquisitive. She sometimes comes to the porch to rearrange the flowers, creating what she calls her secret garden. She is not alone. The other night as I watched TV, two small faces appeared in my front window. They waved as if to ask permission to play on the porch. I waved back.

Two young neighbor boys I met years ago are in high school now, fine young men with ambition. One shovels the walks in the winter and plays football at the nearby high school. The other is now mowing the lawn each week. It is impossible to recognize him as the pudgy young man who practiced trumpet on his front porch for all the neighborhood to hear.

When I first moved here, I enjoyed watching the neighbor dogs, especially Murphy who lived across the street. He was a big, furry dog, a pizza beggar, a gentle soul. He died a few years ago, and I still miss watching him from the porch. I sometimes look at the gate to his backyard and expect him to bound up, wag that big furry tail and bark hello.

Sitting on the porch in warm spring weather, it is hard to remember the hard winter, a gray memory mostly dominated by bad news.

War in Ukraine. Inflation. Mass shootings. Sick friends. The Gollum that is Donald Trump.

It was hard to stay positive. And as someone who does not do winter sports, I inevitably fell victim to cabin fever.

But spring is the season of renewal. Sometimes it is difficult to see that while the news remains miserable. But it is amazing how a little sunshine helps lighten the mood, making the world bearable again.

Back in the day, I did my own yard work, my own lawn mowing and yard clean up. Now I am happy to let others do that work while I watch from the porch. Already the neighborhood is filled with sounds of lawn mowers, the smell of cut grass. And there is laughter, the laughter of kids as they walk home from school.

On an evening breeze, I might even catch the smell of a neighbor’s barbecue.

This spring I have decided to do something new, a reversal on an old tradition.

Most of us like to make New Year’s resolutions even though we rarely keep them long. I decided this year to make springtime resolutions and see if I can maintain them through August.

I resolve to continue reading the news but do it more often on the porch where I can look up and see life rather than dwell on so much death.

I resolve to walk more, maybe see the world from a neighbor’s porch on occasion.

I resolve to wave to my neighbors more often, maybe even leave the porch to say hello.

I resolve to try to make friends with the dogs across the street though I really do not like them much.

I resolve to smell the flowers.

The world may be a mess right now. It is hard to find the positives.

But the view from the porch in spring is always positive.

Warm sun, soft breezes and a great cigar.

For now, it is all I need.

How does the world look from your porch?