The porch promotes grace and comfort. It
promotes good conversation simply by virtue of the fact that on a porch
there is no need for it... It is our reviewing platform and obseration
deck, our rostrum and dais, the parapet of our stockade, the bridge of our
ship."
—Garrison Keillor, We Are Still Married

The roots of America's love affair with the porch run
deep. To us, a porch is more than just an architectural enhancement. It's
a room without walls, a simple, peaceful space where we can watch the
world go by while lazy breezes caress our hair, where it's so quiet we can
hear the bees tumbling in the geraniums. We remember the unhurried days...
that passed by even before we were born, and we long to return to them.
The concept of the porch can be traced back to the ancient
Greeks and Romans, who erected verandas to shade interior gardens. But the
post-1840s era marked their proliferation in America, when
industrialization and massive population growth created a middle class
with increased wealth and free time.

Early on, porches were practical additions to a home,
serving to shade the facade and, therefore, aid in cooling the house in
hot and humid regions of the United States—the South, in particular. Until
World War I, porches were a necessity both socially and architecturally.
They became icons of deliberate living, full of leisure and gentle
conversation.
In 1896, William McKinley held his presidential "front
porch campaign" on his front porch, which was furnished to resemble a
parlor. His approach quickly endeared him to voters. American writers
tipped their hats to the porch, setting stories in its shade, producing
some of the most passionate writing ever penned. For them, the porch was
our connection to nature, our green communion.
But toward the end of the 19th century, central heating
and electric lights eliminated the need for a porch that was sized and
positioned to welcome the sun's warmth. The traditional front porch began
to dwindle from new houses, replaced by rear and side porches. The advance
of the automobile also contributed to the fall of the front porch: who
wanted to sit and watch the sunset while a stream of cars stormed past,
filling the air with noise and exhaust?

As a nation, we went inside to our air-conditioned dens
and rumpus rooms. Lovers left the porch swings. Children gathered their
toys and headed for the playrooms. We flipped on our TVs and stopped
talking. A silence descended on our streets. Passersby no longer raised a
hand in greeting; they counted the sidewalk cracks or stared at our white
curtains, backlit by a dancing blue glow.
Now we are looking to the past with a discerning eye,
retracing our steps and trying to regain the path to familiar, friendly,
traditional living. Porches are seen as an important element of that
quest; they're being included as popular selling points on new homes, as
more and more people search for the simple life.

In such planned communities as Seaside, Florida, the porch
is not only a welcome addition, it's an imperative. In an admirable
attempt to recapture the feel of small-town life, porches are included to
present a congenial countenance to the street. Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk and
partner Andres Duany developed Seaside's master town plan with houses that
included porches in order to connect the occupants to the
street.
Says Plater-Zyberk, "On a porch it's possible to be in a
private space and still participate in a public sense—and the public can
participate in a home owner's private world."
It is this embrace of healthy interaction that contributes
to the porch's once-again burgeoning popularity. The boundaries between
private and public domains are blurred by the addition of a porch and are
further enhanced by its design. Noble columns and nostalgic railings offer
a cordial welcome to guests, as do soft chairs, lush potted plants and
sweating glasses of lemonade, area rugs and white-painted floor boards,
tufted pillows and bowls of bright fruits.

For those with lingering concerns over safety or buggy
summer nights, there is the option of enclosing the porch. When doing
this, special care should be taken not to compromise the architectural
character of the home. Plate glass is a fine enclosure option, since it
can be easily removed and—with a little tailoring—will blend well with any
home's existing windows. Screens, which writer Russell Lynes referred to
as the "most humane contribution made to the preservation of sanity and
good temper," allow home owners to enjoy the balmy night air without
fighting off bothersome insects. Either choice of enclosures should bring
peace of mind and aesthetic satisfaction.
In America today there is a movement back to the roots of
our contentment. We are tired of sitting inside while the world passes by
outside. We are rediscovering that our need for human interaction
shouldn't end at our front door, but should include our neighbors as they
stroll past each dusky evening. We are gradually realizing that our hunger
for peace and calm cannot be sated by a droning TV in a stale,
air-conditioned room; it can only be fulfilled by the lull of
conversation, the whisper of the wind in the lilacs, and the hum of the
world as we sit out on our porch.
—Jason Miller
Resources: Preserving Porches, by Renee Kahn and Ellen
Meagher, Henry Holt and Company, New York; For Your Home: Porches &
Sunrooms, by Jessica Elin Hirschman, Friedman/Fairfax, New York
Photography by Mark Englund