The lovely sound of a slamming screen door
THERE is no more perfect summer sound than the slamming of a screen door, an old-fashioned screen door, a wooden door.
Life was never complete until we had a wooden screen door. It was for a new screened porch, which is the just what the doctor ordered as a place to sit and do absolutely nothing. It had to be a real wooden door with a spring that would slam the door with an honest-to-goodness satisfying slap. It had to have a hook, not a latch, with one of those open-eye things to hook into.
I LOVE my screened porch, even though it cost almost as much as I paid for our first house. It was worth it. After the supper dishes are cleared away, I like to sit there. I stare at the sunsets and admire The One who made them while listening to the shrill of cardinals. Screened porches need wicker furniture. Wicker is a perfect fit.
There has been a problem lately. The screen on a panel of our screen door was loose, allowing those abominable gnats to sneak in. I resented them. This was my screened porch.
I tried to tighten the screen, but that was impossible for an oaf like me. At the hardware store, it was suggested that I might want to replace the door.
“We keep a few wood screen doors in stock, but most people want the aluminum combination doors these days,” a salesperson said.
THAT WAS blasphemy. I wanted to put up my dukes and tell this whipper-snapper that metal doors were not meant for screened porches. I was not for one of those plunger-type opener-and-closers that make s-s-s-s-s-s sounds. We have one of those kinds of aluminum combo doors at the front of our house, and I don’t like it.
Well, to make a short story long, the screen door to our porch was professionally repaired and now I am happy. Long after dark, I like to sit on my porch. If showers don’t whip, I like to sit on the porch in the rain.
Our screened porch reminds me of upbringing days when every house had a porch. If it was not screened, it was nevertheless a porch. Porches brought neighborliness. People called to each other from the porch. When the street lights went on, parents would call to the kids from the porch, “Come on in, it’s time to take a bath.”
THERE ARE porches on some newer homes today, especially those with gingerbread trim frosting the eaves. But you don’t see people sitting on these porches. Mostly, the new porches are for decoration. People like to sit on a patio or deck.
They don’t know what they miss not sitting on a porch, especially a porch with a screen door, and some mom to yell, “Don’t slam the door.”
God has bandaged our country ditches
After our awful winter, the ditches — heaped with snow for so long — were a rumpled mess. Now, they are rural gardens.
Queen Anne’s Lace, our country road royalty, is to be admired these sunny days. The phlox has withered, replaced by chicory with their gentle blue blooms. Lilies are orange in the gullies, sharing space with yellow splurges that go by the name of Indian blankets. Swaying black-eyed Susans will be coming along soon, beside purple-pink foxglove.
State and county budgets have been cut back, so there is less mowing along country roads. It is giving our native wildflowers a better chance to show off. This is the time we should explore our close-in rural roads, soaking up nature without emptying the gas tank.
Bill Wundram can be contacted at (563) 383-2249 or bwundram@qctimes.com. Comment on this column at qctimes.com.