A deck is changing my life

I bought my house, circa 1922, almost 20 years ago and have always joked I bought it for the front porch, which is wonderful and spacious, partly roofed. I grow herbs and other plants on its wide concrete railings and have served many a glass of wine and dinners out there. I've long been a proponent of front porches, arguing that you are part of the neighborhood on the porch--people walk by, wave and greet you. You can see a wild variety of dogs--tonight we saw a man walking three dogs and a cat--no, the cat was not on a leash.
But the thought of a deck in the back of the house lingered in my mind. I kept it in the back of my mind because the yard was essentially a dog yard, devoid of deliberate beautification, thanks to dogs and the city who dug it up for a sewer line and replaced old flourishing plants with small news ones which the male dogs I had at the time promptly killed by peeing on them.
But then Elizabeth moved into my guest house and began to put flowers and statues around the corner of her little house, bird feeders in the trees, and then a table and chairs in the back under the trees. The idea of a deck looked better. (Someone said the other night they heard she told me to build a deck; she was appalled and explained she doesn't "tell" me to do anything!) I talked to the contractors who keep my house together, and we sashayed around the idea until I asked, "Which one of us is not talking about the deck," and they said, "Not us!"
The results is I have a beautiful deck, 10 x 12, just the right size for my yard, with one of those toppings that will never weather, and my children bought a table and six matching chairs for my birthday. We had a grand party Saturday night, and Sunday morning I read the paper, with coffee, on the deck and talked to the son and daughter-in-law who spent the night (they sent their children with all the other cousins to my daughter's house--so peaceful). I have been having supper out there, a drink, reading, and just sitting. And I love it. It's quiet and peaceful, and close to the kitchen.
The effect on my dog Sophie is great--she can be out there with us, which she can't on the front porch because she'd go exploring the world at a fast clip. And whereas I've always had trouble getting her in late at night after her final potty outing, I've now learned to go sit on the deck, enjoy the quiet, and wait for her to come to me, which she does fairly quickly. Much less frustration for me.
My oldest son told someone Saturday night that in all the years I've lived here he's never hung out in the back yard (he and his brother lived in the guest house at first) and now he loved it.
I think my way of life will change, all because of a deck.

An empty house

You know that empty feeling a house gets when there have been guests and they leave? That's what Sophie and I are dealing with tonight. My guests, friends for fifty years this fall, are not noisy--in fact, they're both so soft spoken my defective ears strained to hear them and they're not non-stop talkers, either one. So it's not that the house is quieter--it's that indefinable sense of emptiness. I'm not waiting for them to come in for the apartment in the morning, not checking to see if they're sitting on the front porch so I can join them, not cooking for them--not that they let me do much of that.
I learned a lesson about guests--find out their habits and adjust (I did do the latter). Because I love to cook I planned an elaborate breakfast for each day of their visit and dinners for most days. Breakfasts included a spinach souffle, potato nests with cheese and eggs--didn't get to make either of those. I did make pimiento biscuits (they took leftovers on the road with them), Welsh rarebit (with stout) for brunch on Sunday, and cheeseburger soup one night,  King Ranch chicken for Sunday dinner  with Jordan, Christian and Jacob. But my plans for coq au vin went out the window last night when they voted we get take-out barbecue. I'd never object to that! And we had one wonderful lobster dinner out on Saturday night and a Saturday lunch at the deli.
These friends came not to see the sights, do the museums or go shopping. They came to sit on the front porch, sip wine, visit and catch up on children and lives. I worried they were bored, but I don't think so. I on the other hand was delighted. They, both retired, seemed to take a real interest in my new careeer as a mystery writer--who wouldn't relish that attention?  What a wonderful feeling that friends you treasure would drive twelve hours in one day (from Omaha) just to see me--and, I had a sense, check up on my well-being. I hope they were reassured on that scale, in spite of my pratfall into the dishwasher (I am still finding new bruises, new sore places!).
Dick is an electronics guru, so I have two new HDF TVs--one in the apartment and one in the kitchen. And Dick programmed the remote that I wouldn't have had a clue about doing. And he reprogrammed my printer, so I can now scan to email and receive faxes. Gosh, do you suppose he'll come back for every electronic crisis I have?
I'm back to routine, as though a vacation is over. Granted, there's something comforting about routine. I did my yoga for the first time since last Wednesday or Thursday. But routine doesn't fill the emptiness. Sophie and I are both partially encouraged that Elizabeth is back in the apartment, but she's not often inclined to share a late-night glass of wine on the porch.
Oh well, a cold spell is coming. Won't be porch weather for a while.

An almost perfect fall day

Fall is coming to Texas. The temperature is finally below the low 90s. Today it was humid, really so in the morning, but stiill a perfect morning to drive around with the top down. I had a haircut, and my hair really looked cute when I left the salon--but then I finished my errands top down, and there went that. Still it was worth every minute of driving with the air blowing around me.
Tonight I took a book and an extra glass of wine to the front porch and sat and enjoyed the breeze and the view. My neighbors across the street have the most amazing tall cedars--they lost one in a storm this year, but the others have fiilled in. My crape myrtle, usually slow to bloom and then never blooming profusely, is bursting with flowers, as those trees are all over town. Greg, my botanist friend, tells me it's because of the cool spell we had last week. They're beautiful but messy! I have a  wonderful big but very old elm in front of my house. It used to lose branches from time to time, but it seems stable now. Every time I called the city to take away a  fallen branch, I quaked in fear they'd take the tree down but they said it's still healthy. I hope it lasts as long as I last in this house. To the west of my front yard, I have a lovely lush maple that was small when I moved here eighteen years ago. I must talk to Greg about raising the canopy, but for now it looks really wonderful. The whole street is tree-lined, and I sort of feel I'm in a forest when I look around. My porch plants have come back amazingly after the horrible heat--my fern hanging basket is particularly wonderful. And the hanging sweet potato plant has sent a shoot up the chain the holds it. My only regret is that it gets dark so much earlier these days.
Porch party Sunday night for sixteen. I worried that it would be too hot. Now I'm worried that it may be too cool. High predicted for Sunday is 78, with a low that night in the 50s. Yep, fall is on the way. Meantime, I did some savvy shopping at Central Market and got a whole brisket for $6-something instead of the trimmed ones for $15+ a lb. My gosh!
Looking forward to the weekend. I'll have Jacob from noon Sat. until supper Sunday--hmmmm. How to keep him amused? His other grandparents take him to movies, the state fair, things I'm just not up to alone. Yet he seems to love to come here, so we'll see.