A front porch topped my list of both needs and wants when we planned our new home. While this week's Star Tribune reports that front porches are making a comeback with them included in 63% of new construction, they never went away in my book. We've lived in lots of houses and the ones with a front porch always seemed happier and better connected with their surroundings.

By now the neighbors on our street know that we have a weakness for dessert. They see us on our porch every evening, we see their comings and goings, but we're not spying, just enjoying the cool breeze and some rhubarb crisp or perhaps a slice of banana cake.

We love seeing the regular dog walkers and bike people, and meeting new people who wave and comment upon our house. For good entertainment though you can't beat the band shell parkers. Before the nightly show they've got to put the car somewhere; so they circle, swerve, reverse and traverse in search of elusive parking spaces on our boulevard. It's a parking puzzle every evening. Then a couple hours later they straggle back to their cars with lighter coolers and tired kids in strollers and empty the street.

Last night as the show was over and the attendees were leaving in bunches, another group was walking back from one of the restaurants discussing their meal and a few bikers were passing by too. Even by regular standards the street was busy. And then I noticed another pedestrian on the sidewalk.

A red fox, with classic black feet and white-tipped tail sauntered down the sidewalk with a plump rabbit in its mouth. It, I don't know how tell fox gender, seemed to be heading home with dinner down the most efficient path possible. It continued down the sidewalk disappearing at the end of the street.

I scrambled with my phone to take a photo (hey readers, I'm always thinking of you) but my finger fumbled onto the Yelp icon and by the time I got back to the camera it was gone. I'm just glad I was out on my front porch to see this sight. A little serendipity.

Now I can only wonder, what am I missing when I'm not out there?