The screened-in porch, located at the back of the house, under the shade of the Beech tree, is perfect for summer.
The porch opens onto a deck and overlooks a flower garden.
On the deck, geraniums are blooming bright, ruby, red, like giant strawberries; if they were edible, they’d be luscious.
In the garden astilbe are red too, maroon blooms contrast nicely with the shiny green leaves.
All in bright electric blue, the tall delphiniums look ready for Cinderella's ball.
A pair of downy woodpeckers, I usually see singly, are sharing the same trunk of the oak tree.
The bird box you can see from here is full of chirping baby wrens, whose parents frantically dash in and out with offerings.
Inside the porch the dust lies thick on the glass-topped rattan table, holding the lamp and the fuchsia. It has only three blooms left from Mother’s Day.
Once a table filled this room, soothing and cool of weekday dinners and weekend parties.
The empty chairs stare back at me.
They are comfortable.
One day they too will be filled.
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