The Christmas Porch by Jamie Kirkpatrick

First of all, it’s getting colder by the day and darkness comes early this time of year. That leaves me—an inveterate porch sitter—with something akin to a Christmas dilemma on my hands. I’m not ready to hibernate yet. I still need a place to sit and watch the town wake up and go to work in the morning or get ready for bed at night, not to mention the in-between time when dogs get walked and cars get parked and the mail lady comes and friends pass by, busy with their Christmas errands.

Then there’s this: we don’t have a fireplace in the house so we’ve learned to make do with a fire pit out front. The flames don’t throw off much heat—the liquid in my glass does a far better job of that—but the fire does give an awfully good glow and sends sweet woodsmoke wafting down the street that lets the neighbors know we’re braving the elements and happy to share a cup of Christmas wassail. 

And finally, there’s this: our home is called “Standing Room Only” for a good reason and that reason doesn’t leave any room for an indoor Christmas tree. “So,” my wife and I said to each other a few years ago, “let’s put a tree out on the porch!” And that’s how it all came together—porch, fire pit, and tree—our own little Christmas miracle.

OK; I admit it doesn’t work all the time. Rain can cause a problem with the fire pit and there are dawns or dusks when it’s just too damn cold to sit on the porch; I’m not that crazy old coot. Yet. But flood or icy blasts notwithstanding, I don’t mind bundling up, building a fire, and sitting in the glow of our brave little porch tree, doing my part to bring a bit of Christmas cheer to our little corner of the world. After all, if my glass gets empty (which it does from time-to-time) or the thermometer dips too low (which has been known to happen), I’ve only to come inside where it’s cozy and I can comfortably admire the tree through the living room window, glass fully recharged.

This may be a small town but you’d be surprised how many people pass by our house and if I’m not there to say hello to strangers or chat with friends, I feel that I’m just not doing my civic duty. My wife is even more dedicated to the cause than I am, although her temperature threshold is a bit higher than mine. She’s been known to stick her nose out the front door and immediately retreat back inside, leaving me to wonder if maybe I should join her. But bundled up on her swing, she’s a veritable font of information for the out-of-town crowd that passes by inquiring about where to eat or shop. Plus, her chat game is sharp: she mines friends and neighbors like a forty-niner and occasionally she comes up with a nugget of gold that’s more than worth the wait or another log on the fire, God bless her.

Just about anyone can sit on a porch on a warm summer evening with a cool drink, watching fireflies wink, but it takes a more dedicated soul to sit on the porch at this time of year. The fire pit helps; so does a hot cup of morning coffee or a nightcap wee dram out of the whiskey decanter.  But it’s the tree with its twinkling lights, pine cone garlands, and burlap bows that makes our porch picture perfect… and warm.

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy magazine. “A Place to Stand,” a book of photographs and essays about Landon School, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015.  A collection of his essays titled “Musing Right Along” was published in May 2017; a second volume of Musings entitled “I’ll Be Right Back” was released in June 2018.  Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com

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