Rain trickles slowly down the wind chimes, tracing their harsh contours like a musician's fingertips on a freshly-crafted instrument. The porch is a transitional zone from the comfort of the modern human indoor habitat to the wild untamed world just beyond its insulated walls. Rain dribbles, spouts, plops, and spits on the leaves and grass just beyond the breathable barrier.
Every frog's call and bug's practiced recitation is arranged to create a beautiful cacophony for the audience held in the porch. Deep thrumming of a cat's purr and the swish of pages turning in an unread book join the orchestra outside, creating the very essence of contentment in auditory form. Flickering candles mirrored on a glass table add to the visual flourish, composed against a dark and stormy sky.
Raindrops follow their kinsmen blindly down and over the precipice of the roof only to be gathered in a plastic pitcher. An Ikea water pitcher that is meant to be poured into the life-giving soil of plants happily trapped in the covered passage between inside and out. The distant rolling thunder evokes images of past storms viewed from the daring confines of the screened sanctuary.
