Instead of the front porch, today I am writing from the hammock. Nutmeg is lazing on the grass. Amber has decorated the harvest table with flowers and place-mats and the benches with blankets. I am getting ready to fire up the firebowl and grill burgers for Spare Key's weekly potluck.

Behind me on the porch an audacious plant grows from a crack in the caulking. We noticed it weeks ago, and we left it there. It has grown 18 inches, a slender green stalk straight toward the sky. I have no idea how it got there, or what it is, or how its roots are finding what they need in the bowels of my front porch. But I like what it's doing.

Just as a seed had thrived in calking and concrete, an intentional community has taken root in our own front yards.

After much soul-searching and debating of options, Amber and I have decided to stay in Springfield for the long term--to "hunker down" as one of my friends recently put it. We made this decision not least because of the unprecedented spirit of community we enjoy here. Having finally made a decision to settle, I can't tell you how liberating it is to just. be. present.

We are excited to participate in and contribute to what is happening in Springfield, a place that I know to be full of cultural creatives, high functioning idealists, and crusaders of every stripe. A metaphorical cloud of paper lanterns exists above Springfield, and I look forward to adding my own tiny lantern to the others that already illuminate the landscape.

The next stage is to find a particular region, a particular neighborhood, a particular community, a particular house or houses. We will find this when we find it. But wherever it may be and whenever we may find it, I hope I let nothing distract me in the meantime from just. being. present.

My View From the Front Porch: May 2015, Jan 2015, Aug 2014
jayhoward@gmail.com