In favor of the front porch

I think the porch is one of mankind's all-time best inventions.  Although formal porches can be traced to ancient Roman and Greek civilizations, no architectural feature is as "American as apple pie" as the very place many of us eat that pie: the front porch. 

Rising in popularity in the first half of the 19th century, particularly in the decades just before the Civil War, the front porch became the gathering place for neighbors, family and friends.  Technological and social forces formed an uneasy alliance in the construction and popularity of the space: technology allowed for lightweight stick construction (as opposed to the heavy timbers used in Colonial times), and the desire to escape the very technology of an increasingly industrialized world prompted citizens to yearn for a place to commune with nature.  Behind this movement to link the American house to the American yard was landscape architect Andrew Jackson Downing, who distributed pattern books (like today's house plans) linking houses to nature through the front porch.

Within a few decades the front porch was pretty much a given to any house design, combining architectural ideas with cultural ones as cited by Davida Rochlin in The Front Porch, from Home, Sweet Home: "Nobody thought much about the front porch when most Americans had them and used them. The great American front porch was just there, open and sociable, an unassigned part of the house that belonged to everyone and no one, a place for family and friends to pass the time."

Yet change is one of the only constants in life, isn't it?  WWII signaled more than the demise of the Third Reich, threatening that oh-so-American phenomenon right outside our front doors.  Once again, technology fueled the change.  Automobiles made travel to "developments"--housing neighborhoods further from business districts--easy.  No need to while away the hours on the front porch waving to neighbors walking to and fro.  The "indoor" comforts of air conditioning and television replaced the need to seek cooler temps and company on the front porch.

Perhaps it's my personality: my love of nature, and my need to connect my present with the ideals of our nation's past, but I couldn't live in a house without a front porch.  Ironically, both the houses we now own were purchased without this vital element.  No problem for us--my talented husband designed and built the porches I enjoy every day. 

Our lake house porch is rustic.  The house, nestled in the Adirondack Mountains, reflects the elements of stone and wood, so prevalent to the area.  Split rails comprise the railing (see photo, above).  Our year-round place has history on its side.  Being more than 100 years old, the porch design had to be more traditional: Colonial posts, bead board ceiling and oversized fans keep us and our visitors cool on muggy summer afternoons (below).

The only constants are the use of plants in both places  (which soften and enhance the spaces, as well as provide the visual link to the gardens beyond the porch steps), and our flag, the vibrant symbol of American values--and the wholly American experience of the front porch. 

I'm not alone in my need to connect my "inner and outer" worlds.  Since the late 1980s, the American front porch has been undergoing a resurgence in popularity.  People miss nature, and connecting to those around them!  We want to be in our outdoor spaces, but within the confines of our man-made controls (nobody wants to stand in a flowerbed with their morning cup of coffee or chat with a neighbor while dodging the sprinkler).  The front porch provides the perfect balance, a compromise, if you will, between the divinity of the natural world, and the practicality of our everyday lives.

I suggest it's even more.  It's a place to rest, a spot to take a few precious moments to wave to passersby, or invite them up the steps for a cool drink.  It's an ideal area for green thumbs to proudly display their horticultural skills, and a perfect place for things like Fourth-of-July bunting, Halloween spider webs, and holiday lights.  It's a place to hatch plans, fondly recall good times, read a book, or just sit and think.  In our time-crunched, overbooked lives, it's a long-standing tradition that harkens back to our roots, and reminds us that the ideas and ideals of previous generations--sharing time and hospitality, enjoying nature, and saving a moment or two for contemplation--are still important today.  Let's hope this vital link endures!