What a pretty morning! A slight breeze sways the pine branches. Not a cloud is in the sky, the spectacularly blue sky. Today will be in the low 50’s. Tonight will be in the 30’s. I have a couple of errands which will get me out to enjoy the day. I’m finally going to get those pansies.

When I was a kid, my mother made dinners she knew we’d all eat. We never saw broccoli or cauliflower. Spinach was Popeye’s choice, not ours. The only salads she made were potato, tuna and chicken, never green salad. I didn’t eat beans, but I loved peas. We knew we’d have potatoes at dinner. Mostly they were mashed, but sometimes they were oven fried. Corn was a frequent all season veggie, canned in winter, fresh in summer. My father was the champion at eating corn off the cob. His approach reminded me of typewriter keys moving side to side and up and down. He went so fast that if you sat beside him you got sprayed with flying pieces of corn. For dessert we’d grab some cookies, Oreos, if it was close to when my mother grocery shopped as they disappeared quickly. Chocolate chip was a close second. My mother would sometimes surprise us with brownies. She’d make them then frost them with chocolate frosting and jimmies (sprinkles to some of you). I remember the pan she always used. I can still see it in my mind’s eye.

I remember when my mother visited we often went shopping. We’d stop at a few antique stores. In one there were individual tables and bookcases. I watched a woman adding to her wares. She put down four nested tulip bowls, Fire King bowls. My mother had had a set when I was growing up so I decided to buy the bowls. I still use them, and every time I do, I am reminded of my mother. What a treasure!

When both of my parents came down, my mother and I shopped while my father worked around my front yard. He weeded and mowed. He loved yard work. When I visited them, he’d show me his front lawn. It was his pride and joy.

Henry started barking by the front door. It was his intruder bark. I checked but didn’t see anything or anyone then I heard the mail truck. Henry is not a fan of that truck, and the mailman is not a Henry fan. If he has a package for my house, he leaves it at the end of the walk. Henry keeps barking. That’s all he does as he hasn’t yet learned to open the door. I hope he never does.

What a pretty day! The sun is squint your eyes bright. The blue sky goes on forever. Nothing is moving. It is 49°. The high today will be 53°, spring on Cape Cod. Tonight will drop back to the 30’s, back to winter.

I have two errands left. I also have house chores. I am inundated by spiders. This morning I walked around clearing webs. The fur balls are back. I need to clear yet again. That seems to occur every couple of days. I’ve been using the broom. The balls fly in the air when I sweep. I have a vacuum, but I do like a broom.

When I was a kid, the creatures around me were the usual, the spawns of Satan, an occasional skunk, garter snakes and birds. I don’t remember which birds. I never paid that much attention. I do remember watching a praying mantis, the strangest looking insect I ever saw. It looked like the miniature version of a monster from a Japanese science fiction movie, a little Rodan.

I had chickens in Ghana. My first hen was a gift from a friend. She came with a few eggs on which she’d been sitting. Her roost was the bottom half of a pottery bowl. It was kept in the toilet area of my backyard to keep her and her eggs safe; however, it didn’t keep me safe. (Bathroom talk here) the toilet room was small. I could touch both walls when I sat on the proverbial throne. The hen was right near my feet. If I moved my feet, she’d peck them. I always wore sandals so the pecking hurt. I learned to keep my feet at a distance, difficult in the small space. But there was something neat about this set up. I could watch the progress of the eggs. Sitting there, got to see the first cracks. I could hear the chick pecking away. This hen was free range. Every morning she’d leave the yard followed by her chicks. In the late afternoon she’d return, minus at least one chick then finally all the chicks were gone, taken by some predator. My students later told me she left eggs around the compound instead of in the nesting area. This hen later had a new purpose. She was dinner. I did get more hens and my flock grew. I became a chicken docent. I also became a plucker of great renown.