The inside of our front porch looks, well, shoddy. (The outside isn't so hot, either.) The eight big storm windows are old, probably from the 70's and some of their smudges can't be wiped off. The lower panel on the storm door was replaced with plexiglas and is marked-up and all permanently smudgy like you wouldn't believe. The lower walls have never been painted, they're water-stained, they've worn to yicky-grey and need to be replaced. The two sills which I've not yet painted are flaking and the floor is just plywood. Or something like it.
But you know? On sunny mornings like this one, our front porch feels downright luxurious. On this porch I can sit at the bistro table in my robe and slippers, something I only longed to do at our old house on the open-to-the-world front porch. I lean against the window sill and soak in the sun and gaze at green lawns and myriad trees outside the windows and they soothe my mind while the Big Band Era music wafting through the opened door of the living room cheers me. And I dream, dream, dream. And read. And tear pages from my garage-sale-found Victoria magazines. And feel gratefulness down to my toes.
Our front porch is teaching me this: It's not always how a room looks that's important, but rather, it's how it makes you feel. And so there's your simple lesson for the day. Mine, too.
You can click to enlarge the photo for some sunny details, some nice, some not. :)