I live in a city. Not one of those multi-million inhabitants cities, a mere 825,000 give or take. Still a lot of people in 46 square miles. Lots of cement, cars, noise, and not enough green, private space. In older parts of the city, buildings abut one another and most apartments have windows facing only one direction although bay windows are quite popular affording at least a peak at alternative views. My apartment building is a find. There is a private garden along the front of the building that is nicely maintained and has an area for picnics and barbeques. The tenants use that garden often. We have celebrated many special events and eaten amazing meals here but that’s for another time. More importantly for me, there is “the porch.” A seemingly useless space outside my dining room window.

Grated bars keep the unwanted from accessing my apartment via the fire escapes and beyond those bars is the reflective, tar paper roof of the porch.

The building at 100+ years has many wonderful details and those who venture out onto the roof are protected by a waist-high balustrade. This encloses the space and I have adopted it as my own.  It is no longer useless.      

Lavender, sage, rosemary and multi-colored seasonal flowers flourish.  On this porch,  I have created the ultimate urban garden. With my morning coffee in hand, I greet the day along with the humming birds, bees and butterflies that find their way to my little oasis on the second floor. There is an open invitation to join me. It only requires putting one leg out the window onto the roof, bending double to duck under the window, twisting the body and grabbing the window frame while pulling the other leg out and raising to a standing position. Practicing yoga helps. So far, it is just me and the fauna.