Once Upon A Porch
I think we need more front porches. They are great places to hang out at night, especially in the summer when you can stay up late and listen to the sounds of the evening.
They aren’t so bad during daytime thunderstorms, either. (What brought this up was a quick look at the Doppler radar map on my computer a few minutes ago; we’re due for one in a little while.) It’s an “I feel safe” sort of thing, most especially when you are little and can be right there with the elements, but not get drenched.
One of my early memories is watching a real downpour and having the storm sewer unable to handle it all. The water would bubble up out of the holes in the cover and I’d be there on the porch taking all this in. It never dawned on me it might be hard on those people who had to walk from the bus. Like, my grandfather.
I had a black raincoat. Regulation black, as they might call it back then. Thick rubber with a lining. It had a little splotch of yellow where I must have brushed against a freshly-painted fire hydrant up at the corner. I don’t remember an umbrella, but the coat did have a good-sized hood; I was pretty dry (and warm) in it.