Within a week of breaking my leg I started wishing for one thing. I wished I had a porch.
When I talk about porches I’m talking about the Deep South. A porch with proper swings as chairs, where you sit and chat with passers by over glasses of iced tea. A place that provides a change of scene and that special kind of companionship with people you don’t really know.
I’ve never visited the Deep South so my knowledge is a stereotype gleaned from too many books and films. For all I know the pretty picture I’ve painted in my mind is a lie; can anybody save my dreams and tell me this type of living exists? Is it as magical as I wish it to be? Continue reading