Every Sunday I bring lemonade to a stranger's banjo porch

On a Sunday afternoon in Seminole Heights a man was playing a banjo on his porch and I stopped on the sidewalk for one song and stayed for five. He gestured at an empty chair on his porch without breaking the tune. I sat. That was last spring. I go every Sunday now and bring lemonade. I still do not know what the tune is called but I can play along on the tambourine. We have not exchanged names. We have exchanged about sixty songs.