I have this image in my head. Maybe it's from seeing too many movies or reading too many books. Maybe it's overly sentimental. But whatever the reason, I'd really like a front porch, and a rocking chair to sit on. Nothing too close to the road. I'd like to look out at something beautiful— a field, a garden, maybe the ocean. And I'd like it to be quiet, quiet enough to hear the creaking of the chair as I rock back and forth.
Rocking is said to be therapeutic, the repetition soothing rather than monotonous, much in the same way that runners feel a sense of release with the repeated motion of their feet hitting the pavement, one in front of the other, driving their body forward as they log mile upon mile. I can't help feeling that my body and mind would benefit from an evening spent sitting outside, mulling over the day, letting the thoughts and feelings—many unformed and fleeting, merely glimpses into my subconscious— roll out over the wood planked floors and into the humming grass. Maybe the daily ritual would uproot some long-dormant inspiration, unfurling its potential in one long hastily scribbled notebook entry.
Do you have a rocking chair on your front porch?
(Images: 1. Flickr member robinrkc licensed under Creative Commons; 2. House Beautiful; 3. 1893 Victorian Farmhouse; 4. Cambria Bold; 5. Country Living; 6. Boonen Cabin Rental; 7. West Kentucky Outdoor Adventures)