I can hardly remember a time when my mother didn’t have a screened porch. In fact, I don’t think she’s been without one my whole life. We even had a teeny-tiny one over on Fifth Street, barely big enough for the ice-cream table and chairs. But by gum, she tricked it out with a hibachi and a candelabra and it was darn cute.
Oh, and way up in New Hampshire, Miss Gigi had the yankees scratching their heads when she directed construction of the first screened porch in Rockingham County. (The yankees also scratched mosquito bites, so you’d think they’d have seen the genius of screening sooner.)
Mama moved to this house last summer, and said goodbye to the wonderful, comfortable, big screened-in back porch that she and George shared for so long. And even though my mother’s new home has charm on top of more charm, and is her perfectly sized “Wendy house,” I worried that it lacked the natural ability of a screened porch to gather our generations into a warm and spirited circle.
And to think — for all these years, I’ve been giving all the credit to the screened porch.
ginnygram 
Have you been in Danville?????
:)