Our back porch is a tapestry, an ever-evolving reflection of who we are and where we are. At any given moment, there may  be chickens, a barn cat, or a dog or two lying there or sitting on the fiber chair. There is never a person sitting on the back porch, it has been taken over.

The Fiber Chair is Minnie’s throne these days, she sleeps there at night, sits there during the day. Once in awhile, she ventures forth to snatch a mouse or mole, whose remains will be waiting for us by the the back door. I see the porch as a tableau, there is Ed Gulley’s “Mr. Blockhead,” Maria’s chair, two years in the making, a box of kindling and some hanging plants. There is a lot on the back porch, it is a kind of living testament.

There are flowers all around the front of the porch, the farm is in riotous bloom this summer. Minnie on her throne has become a symbol of us right now.