Years ago I lived in a home that was blessed with an amazing porch.

The porch is where friends would gather and talk into the first birdsong of morning. We were artists, musicians, writers, thinkers. The conversations we had were of and about and an art unto themselves.

Grab a chair, a pillow, or a spot on ledge. Kick off your shoes and let your feet hang free. We’ll wait for the moon to rise, light a few candles, and let the conversation flow.

Everyone is an artist here.