My home was an old Charleston house all white, with a long, narrow porch stack with potted plants. We lived upstairs, the porch banister was right over my head. I could not climb it or would fall on the street below. I seldom played in the yard below, but when if did, I played jump rope with my little sister. All I could remember was the Gardena bushes overlapping the fence. We never would open the gate to the play on the sidewalk! People would walk by looking at us in the yard. They watched us and we watch them through the picket white fence.