I house sat for Ellen last week. Or more accurately, I dog sat for her two big golden retrievers who happen to live in her house and were able to find my chocolate covered peanuts within fifteen minutes of my arrival and get them out from the bottom of my duffel bag without pulling out a single piece of underwear. They also woke me every morning at 6:00 a.m-- exactly an hour before I had any intention of getting up.
But get up I did, as there's little sleep to be had with over a hundred pounds of dog sitting on your stomach and washing your face.
Ellen lives in a big turn of the century house on a big lot that she moved into nearly 30 years ago and that still looks much like it did when our kids played Barbie's together or fought over Christmas presents. She has a tendency to avoid change, so that the curtains that she thought she might need when she moved in have never been put up and pictures that are finally hung are never taken down. Even when she redecorates, she tends to use the same colors and same styles that she had before, so that although the house has been updated over the years, it's never really changed.
The Little Tikes plastic orange and yellow picnic table still sits under the tall evergreen in the side yard, lonely now, but likely to be rediscovered by grandchildren soon. The back yard still has a huge wooden treehouse that is standing, but will need some serious attention before those same grandkids are ever allowed to climb up.
There are two fenced sections in the back yard that are intended to separate the area for dogs and the area for grass and flowers, but which Ellen is neglectful about policing, so that there is never a lot of grass throughout, and the flowers so carefully planted by a landscaper don't always make it through the season. The hole that was being dug to China by little boys is still there, as is a small grove of saplings planted by neigborhood kids over twenty-five years ago, although they're now trees in an awkward place.
The overall effect is a homey house, well loved and well lived in. A remarkable house, really, but not a showplace unless your preference, like mine, is for overstuffed bookcases with popular titled paperbacks, comfortable couches that you can sleep the night on, lots of unmatched pictures and photographs (not a single one in a silver frame) lining the mantle and hanging a little crooked on the walls.
But best of all to my mind is the front porch spanning the entire house and then angling down the side with a separate section that is screened in and holds a ping pong table. There is a wood floor throughout, wide front steps to sit on, and a swing to while away lazy days.
The daily newspapers are delivered there. One at the end of the long driveway by an adult in a car with a huge route that might actually support a family. The other more local paper right under the front door by a girl, maybe 13, on a bike. Or at least it was a girl the last time I house sat. This time I missed her, and I fear that I caught a glimpse of a slowly moving car delivering that second paper too.
The house we grew up in had a front porch nearly as big. It was the coolest place in the house on summer days and the wood floor was the perfect spot for sitting and playing all day games of tiddly-winks and monopoly and battleship. There was no swing, but the wooden railings encircling three sides became seats and horses and perfect jumping off spots that left huge holes in the hostas that grew at the bottom. There was only one lone lightbulb in the center of the ceiling so the shaded corners beckoned for good night kisses as we grew older. I loved that porch.
Ellen has a back deck too, added when they first bought the house. I sat there sometimes while the dogs did their business and searched for tennis balls for me to throw. It's a nice deck with a hot tub and a weber grill and plenty of seating.
But it's the front porch that I miss--along with morning papers and papergirls.
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