If you have a farmhouse, nobody uses the front door. It's like it doesn't exist. UPS, neighbors, everyone, comes to the back door. Not only to the back door but right on through the closed-in back porch to the kitchen door. It took me about 6 months to get used to this. The doorbell by the front door didn't work when I moved in, probably from lack of use and I just never got around to fixing it, would have been a waste of time anyway!
At the beginning of each new season, I would decorate the front porch with enthusiasm. My favorite was Autumn. The grapevine wreath I wove at my mother's home in Sonoma County, CA., with fall colored leaves, adorned the front door. A scarecrow sat in the old wicker rocker with a pumpkin and a basket full of Indian Corn on his lap, stuffed crows on his hat. Bundles of shocked corn stood here and there.
It was all in vain, not a single human eyeball ever glanced toward the front porch on their way to the proper "farm house" ingress - egress.
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