Starry Starry Nights
(Page 2 of 3)
July/August 2002
By Carol Venolia
Arizona architect Barbara Crisp recalls the sleeping porch at her grandparents’ Pennsylvania home. “The sleeping porch was a narrow room on the second floor, overlooking the backyard—big enough for a twin bed and side table, and screened on three sides. The moist summer air hung heavy, making the sheets feel dense on my body. And sound seemed amplified: cats calling, crickets chirping, cicadas, and street noise. I would lie there hoping to catch some breeze, feeling as if I were in a tree house—a separate world of my own.”
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Oregon architect Marcia Mikesh has recent memories: “Last fall, my husband and I dragged our double-size camping mattress into the backyard on a tarp and slept out under the stars. Several neighborhood cats came and slept with us. We awoke to dew-dampened, toasty warm bedding and purring piles of cats. Very nice.”
The downside of the outdoors
Of course, the natural world is not always so nurturing. No doubt our predecessors were delighted by every protective innovation; a sleeping person is a vulnerable person, and good sleep requires a modicum of comfort. Being too hot, too cold, or wet; sleeping on hard ground; or being attacked by mosquitoes, mountain lions, or other humans can really mess up your night. This is why we developed shelter.
We all probably have some unpleasant memories of sleeping outdoors—either rain, snow, or wind, bears or moose rubbing up against the tent in the northern woods, scorpions in our boots in the southwestern desert, sand in the sleeping bag on a California beach, or something else.
But maybe we’ve gone too far with this protection thing. My body craves the hum of life and the gentle glow of moonlight, not the drone of the bedside clock and the relentless streetlight through my window. The art of sleeping outdoors involves protecting ourselves—but not too much. Camping is one way to sleep outdoors, with its tarps, tents, and other trappings to keep unwanted elements at bay. But what if you want to get out of your stuffy bedroom at home?
American porch dreams
A century ago, Americans became adept at creating environments for domestic outdoor sleeping. In the late 1800s, indoor air was a foul brew of combustion products from cooking, heating, and lighting, intensified by poor ventilation. As a new century dawned, Americans strained at their Victorian laces and rebelled against closed, dark homes. A tuberculosis epidemic launched a wave of health consciousness, and the sleeping porch was seen as the cure for contaminated lungs. In fact, both Teddy Roosevelt and Henry Ford extolled the virtues of porch sleeping.
The sleeping porch quickly became the most desirable room in the house, typically on the second floor to capture the “purer” air. Some homes had one large porch where families slept barracks-style, while other homes had a private porch off every bedroom. Some people used the porch to escape the summer heat, whereas others slept there year-round. Most porches had a solid roof. Some porches had open sides, some had screened walls, and some were curtained against wind, rain, and snow. Beds were often designed to slide indoors or out, depending on the weather.