Buzzing on the Back Porch


The old back porch might have once been the gathering place for a family, the Sears premade home having been razed in 1912, but time was the porch of Blueberry Hill was much too fragile to rock a chair on, much less more than one. Yes, Blueberry Hill needed some work. The wallpaper was yellow and peeling, and the little sign “Blueberry Hill” on the front door nailed their long ago by a lovesick young couple was cracked in two by the nails that once held it. But the newcomers had to have a house - and quick - so they took their trunks into what was a depressing demotion from their former home across the state. It might have been across the world. The first few months the wallpaper got painted over, and the front porch got stripped bare and a pretty little colonial gingerbread porch graced the corner of the street. That old back porch was neglected except for bracing the floor so a table could be set for breakfast coffee. Oh, that was a fine big yard out back and Mrs. Newcomer’s therapy before there was such a thing as a support group was to chop out flower beds and plant seeds, so the view was grand.

Winter was coming and so was Grandma. What to do? As they say these days, Mr. and Mrs. Newcomer had to bite the bullet and make a big room out of that porch. Between Mr. Newcomer and a door to door contractor, the old porch got buttressed, screened, floored and became a room. It was divided in half by a stack of shelves and a room at one end with a picture of horses on the paneled wall was set up for Grandma, The kitchen opened onto the other half which was sunny and bright, a bright yellow table and chairs now for breakfast and a long couch by the screen/glassed in windows that brought the backyard right inside.

Mr. and Mrs. Newcomer nursed Grandma through her last years of dementia. Mr. Newcomer gave her hot toddies at bedtime. She would sit on the side of the bed and bounce and sing and laugh until she fell asleep. And many happy meals were served on the little yellow table - bacon and eggs every morning, and just lunch or maybe a cup of coffee at night. Always coffee and pretty ashtrays for Chesterfields. That’s when the buzzing on the back porch happened. The end of a work day, a school day. That’s where we learned Liza Jane was “p-g” and didn’t have a husband, and where Mrs. Johnson, the English teacher, bullied one of the girls. It was where the Newcomer girls learned about life while eavesdropping on Mama and Papa Newcomer, now just “comers,” (pretending to do homework in our laps on the couch) But dinner was a special time It was always served on a white tablecloth in the dining room. Meat and potatoes and a pile of bread on the everyday dishes, every night. No candles, though.

Along the way Mr. Newcomer built a big brick barbecue, a green house and a tool house in that gardened backyard. Many nights were spent with neighbors roasting weiners and drinking coffee from a big old tin percolator. The children ran. The children played. The children did acrobats, and then finally talked “boys” or football. The grownups gabbed about the war, about jobs, about Roosevelt, Church, but mostly just gossiped.

The old back porch is still there, built back in the late 40s. The folks there now probably buzz and eat and live, and don’t give a thought the spirits that may occasionally pay a visit to their old back porch.


© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


There was some buzzing on the back porch as Aunt Esther and Aunt Flo talked about the upcoming county fair and what they might show this year. Aunt Esther had made her famous Chow-Chow for years, and she thought it was time for a change. Aunt Flo was bent on showing her quilt that she had made during the winter months when she couldn't tend her garden. The two ladies talked almost through lunch, but remember I said almost. "Oh, Flo, will you look at the time", said Aunt Esther. I have some home made chicken salad and fresh peach pie that is just waiting for our lunch. "I do declare, I don't know where the time goes, "replied Aunt Flo. The two ladies hurried into the kitchen getting their lunch prepared. Aunt Esther had a lovely white cloth on the table and her best china lunch plates and glasses. Nothing was too good for her company, ever. Aunt Flo got the iced tea from the old gas refrigerator, and the ladies sat down to an excellent lunch. After the dishes were done, they went back to the porch to finalize their plans for the fair. It was decided that Aunt Esther would enter her prize winning Dutch Apple pie, and Aunt Flo would enter the Wedding Ring quilt she had already made and was saving for the fair. The ladies were so excited for the next two months that they barely got a good nights sleep. In their little town, the fair was one of the most important events, well next to the tent revival and the Christmas pageant down at the church.


Small Town Fare



It’s almost fair time down South.
Can't wait for the delectable goodies to tease both the senses and the mouth.


Ladies will enter their canned goods, quilts and such.
Children can't wait for the cotton candy and ice cream that they love so much.


Granny has entered her prize winning sow,
And Grand Dad has fed his calf well from the old hay mow.


No time is more pleasurable than fair time, I do declare.
Little Jimmy has entered his first rate mare.


Soon summer will be over, but not before the big tent revival down by the creek.
The preacher will baptize both the loud and the meek.


School days will be upon us in no time at all,
But fair time is the fairest of those summer days when the grass is tall.



© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


Think of a hot summer afternoon,
Think of wisteria vines and a wooden swing,
Think of two tall glasses of lemonade,
Think of two women wearing aprons,
Think of a bushel of fresh-picked green beans.


Across the yard and out in the field,
Two farmers and a young boy are hoeing corn.
Inside the house, a two-year old girl lies in her crib sleeping.
The mid-day meal is over, left-overs are in the ice box.
There'll be a table-full for supper; a pot of fresh-picked greenbeans will taste good.


A big yellow butterfly wanders onto the porch,
drifts across to check out a wooden box full of geraniums.
The aroma from the wisteria has attracted three bumblebees, and a moth.
Rover lies sleeping at the top of the steps,
and "whoofs" when the bees buzz around his head.


All is quiet on the front porch,
So a passerby might think no one is home.
The windows are open, the screendoor is latched.
Neighbors and friends know, however, where to go when they arrive.
"Come on around back," Mr. and Mrs. Farmer will yell.
"We're out here......buzzing on the back porch".



© By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


There they sat on the back porch,
slicing cucumbers for pickles;
of course a solving, well uh
discussing all the dirt around the town.


Aunt Jane has been stepping out with Deacon Brown,
his wife was seen at a beer joint, dancing with Sam Crooly.
Mrs. Swett’s daughter Mary is expecting,
some say it is the TV man, others say it is the parson.


Rachel Wilson was arrested for DUI,
it was the medicine, cop said,
an open fifth on the seat,
seems she was only wearing that old chenille bathrobe.


Yes there is buzzing on the back porch,
gossip flowing hot and heavy,
Goodness gracious Mrs. Wilson lost a bundle at bingo,
and Lois K was arrested for propositioning.


Four bushels of cucumbers were cleaned and sliced,
then they had a little bite.
Since it was such hard work,
a glass of sherry was in order.


Buzzing on the back porch,
who will be discussed next?
who has a dark secret that
needs to be discussed?



© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


I know a back porch in another town,
With clapboard sides for a wall all around,
Like a doggie door 3 girls went under,
Took their dolls, a cool place in summer.


Paper dollies were pasted underneath the floor,
They still reside there these 100 years more.
Fluffy little girls in fluffy little dresses,
Dirt on their noses, tangled tresses.


Whiled away the hours under the porch,
Mudpies and paper dolls and skirts all starched.
No jeans, no tank tops, fully decked, they played,
In another time, another place, another summer day.


(And to think those clothes had to be boiled in a big pot in sliced lye soap, starched and ironed.)


© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


Poppa came home from work, popped a cold one and momma had her glass of sherry as Lucy Lou finished supper as Emma Jane folded and put away the wash. Little Joe was doing his chores, you know, bring in wood and coal plus kindling for starting fires in the morning, after he had milked Elsie and Myrtle, fed the chickens, gathered the eggs and slopped the hogs. Just a typical Tuesday at the Rose house, each had their chores; each did their chores, no talk, no discussion and definitely no sass.

Mom started supper when she got home from work; she worked in the cafeteria at the grade school and poppa was a clerk at the farm and ranch store. They made ends meet, but it was hard especially with their oldest two in college. Mom always said if poppa hadn’t been poppa then they could have spaced the children a little better if they had known then what they knew now. Mom had two glasses of her special wine and poppa had two bottles of beer and when the chores were finished, they all washed up and sat down to supper.

Supper was a time for discussion, the news, some happening or things or events they encountered during the day. All at once poppa looked around; put his finger over his lips for silence. He turned his head this way and that way trying to discern what he heard. No one spoke as soon all five of them were twisting, turning and trying to be the first to learn what poppa heard and then identify it. Finally mom spoke, “Sounds like a buzzing on the back porch.”

Poppa shook his head, “No, sounds like a card on a bicycle wheel, but is it the back porch or is it an echo,” he asked.

Little Joe quickly said, “It is a giant yellow jacket nest and when Lucy goes out there they will make a nest in her big hair do.” All laughed as each made a guess.

Finally poppa arose, “Well I guess we had better see.” He stopped, “Joseph is this one of your little tricks?”

Joe looked funny but quickly said no, so out on the back porch they all trouped. Mom and dad let out a big laugh, “Heck who turned this thing on,” he asked as he saw the blue hue and hum of the bug zapper as the miller moths all flew close.

Emma Jane went over and un plugged it. “I am the guilty one, I like the looks of the blue light but I had the stench of those fried bugs.”

Lucy Lou looked funny as you could see her stomach was not at all settled. Joe piped up, “Can I have their dessert?”


© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


Just a-sitting on the back porch.
Sun was as hot as a blow torch.
So quiet that the air was a-buzzing.
Not even snoring from my cousin.
Didn't want to move even an inch.
Buzzing got louder, then I felt a pinch!
Something was lifting me out of my chair.
Something blowing the clouds from the air.
Fear crept from my head to my toes...
I was taken by them Jersey Mosquitoes!



© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)




 


Buzzing on the Back Porch


Buzzing on the back porch, the same fly from yesterday. It had to be. He had never seen one as big. "Big as a Buick", he chuckled to himself. "Almost a shame to end it's life, really wasn't bothering anybody as long as it was outside, not inside, landing on the fresh baked peach pie his smell buds informed him was nearly ready.

He thought of all the germs and disease no doubt clinging to spindly legs. "What a shame," he mused, "We can't be friends with every creature in God's creation."

Why do you suppose God created houseflies? For that matter why did God create humans? Who is to say we are any more important than the tiniest life. The world is teeming with microscopic life, especially in Summer.

Everything serves a purpose. That is the one sweeping assertion you can say about the world. Everything serves a purpose. The housefly feeds on garbage and dung so the spider's elaborate trap will catch him for a tasty meal. The spider keeps the insect population in check.

The screen door swung open. Mildred took aim and before he could speak..."Schlapp"! The swatter found it's target and the venerable fly dropped dead. Without a word she took a tissue from her apron pocket scooped up the cadaver and returned to the kitchen, screen door slamming behind her.

"Like I was saying," he thought, "It's a shame we can't be friends with all God's creatures."


© By Mercedes (writerworks@live.com)




 

 

 



 

         

    

 



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