The Neighbors Are Really Talking Now

Big news today. My husband and I finally did it. We named our house and we boldly posted its new and well-deserved name on the wall of our front porch. Like most other things we do - grow weeds instead of grass, sneak laying hens into the backyard, leave bikes scattered from one end of the lawn to the other - the neighbors are talking. I see them walk by, squinting their eyes to read the words on the new plaque and whispering to each other.

Nonetheless, I know as a southerner that I've done the good and proper thing. This week I've been writing a book review of Ghosts of Grandeur: Georgia's Lost Antebellum Homes and Plantations for Lake Oconee Living Magazine, and as I've studied the tome I've come to realize that not only is giving one's home a proper name okay, it's an obligation. Look at these monikers: Fair Oaks Plantation, Calico House, Summerland, Cedar Valley, Glen Lora, Dungeness, Paradise Hill, Pomegranate Hall and Ingelside.

The one commonality that all of these names share is that they something about the people who lived in the houses or the identifying features of the landscape surrounding the houses or details of the houses themselves. In naming our home we avoided ostentatiously adding on words like hall or manor or house or plantation. We avoided using the sir names of past residents.

Our guiding principal was to find what was special about our house, that makes it home to us. Our conclusion: The front porch.


So let the neighbors banter if they must. As my husband says, "It's branding, and there's no publicity like the opinions of the public." While they're talking it up, we'll be taking it all in from the safe haven of our porch . . . from Porchaven.