The smell of grandma's porch was wonderful but not in the clothes on the line or fresh apple pie on the windowsill kind of way.
Grandma's porch smelled of old paint of winter even in the summer and of damp wicker, an ancient outdoor rug, oxidized aluminum siding and dust from the cars on First Avenue speeding to, or from, the Post Office on Main Street at the bottom of her street
These were not necessarily "good" smells We'd wash them off of our hands before we ate lunch in front of the TV with grandpa, watching Jeopardy but the old one not the one with the Canadian guy
But they were good smells to us because they reminded us of a grandma who allowed her grandchildren to build massive forts from blankets and every chair and sofa cushion in the house TV tables too As long as they were dismantled before Noon when Jeopardy came on and grandpa would want his lunch and the vapor rising from his bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup would wash away the smell of grandmas porch from our noses.