“We’re having a heat wave,” okay, a slight heat wave. It is only 33° now but a high of 40°is predicted. Rain is in the forecast. It should beat down more of the snow which is at its ugly stage. The pine trees didn’t fare well. My yards, back and front, are littered with branches and limbs. Some landed on fences. In the back a section of the fence is leaning. I think it can be saved. The front fence needs to be replaced. The snow is holding it up. Clean-up will take a while.

When I was a kid, the streets after being plowed still had a layer of snow. Summer tires were switched to either snow tires or chains. My father had his winter tires put on at the gas station. Because we lived on a hill, it was an early winter chore. Sometimes when the snow was still high on the street, my father went up the next street which by-passed most of the hill. He parked out front at the curb. Cars riding up and down the hill hard-packed the snow and made it perfect for sledding. We flew.

When I was growing up, I gave no real thought to the further beyond a day or two unless I was counting down the days until Christmas or summer vacation. I sometimes made weekend plans like going to the matinee or going bike riding usually by myself but other times with friends. On winter weekends we sometimes ice skated, at the swamp or the field. Once in a while, we’d take the bus to the MDC rink. It was the best rink. It had two round fenced in rinks, and a building where you could sit inside on benches to get warm, and you could even buy food. If I had the money, I’d buy hot chocolate then skate a little more. To get home, we used to have to cross over the busy road at the Middlesex Fells so we could catch the bus back. The bus stopped off the road at the front of the neatest house, a part of the New England Sanitarium and Hospital, where I was born as was Buffy St. Marie. The house had a beautiful rock front. Students nurses lived there. I remember them in uniform getting on the bus. They’d get off in the square.

My dance card has a few entries this week, all uke. I have the usual practice and lesson, and we have one concert. We’re playing Irish, one of my favorite uke music books. It will be good, my getting back into the world.

The early morning was sunny. Now the sun is behind the clouds. They are suspicious clouds, the sort which hides surprises. It is cold, 39°, the high for the day. I’m warm. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee. I read the newspaper. It is an ordinary winter’s day. This morning I checked my mailbox for the first time since last Monday. When I opened it, I had the best surprise. A soft package was stuffed in at the front. It took me a while of tugging and pulling to free it and the pile of mail behind it, including a small box in the way back. As soon as I got inside, I opened the package. My sister and brother-in-law had sent me a Cape Cod Ukulele Club shirt. I was thrilled. Their thoughtfulness gave me the biggest boost, gave me joy. Serendipity! Also, in the mail was my coffee. This month’s coffee, a medium roast, is from Peru, from the San Ignacio region, a mountainous region. I’m excited to try it.

When I was a kid, I drank cocoa every morning. I remember the top of the cocoa in the cup had small bubbles from my mother stirring it into the hot milk. The cocoa was thick and silky, at least that’s how my tongue remembers it. I always yummed after the first sip. I remember the cocoa container had a slot on the top. The slot was for coins. The container became a bank after the cocoa was finished. I remember my money always smelled like cocoa.

I love the taste of cinnamon. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes sprinkle cinnamon sugar on my cereal. For a nickel I could buy the cinnamon flavored Life Saver roll. Every Christmas I got the Life Saver’s book in my stocking. The first roll I’d eat was always the cinnamon followed by the root beer roll. My sister sent me cinnamon lollipops from See’s Candy one year. After the first lick, I was addicted. I bought a couple of boxes more. I got more for Christmas. I bought more. Finally I called a halt. I got a See’s catalogue the other day. I’m afraid to look through it. I have no resistance.

This week I get to join the world. I haven’t left my house since last Sunday though I did have two visitors, my friend Mary Allen and my nephew Tim. Both of them brought light. Tim shoveled me out, cleared the back stairs for Henry and brought hot food and coffee. He took trash. Mary Allen brought me the vegetables for my sausage dinner. She brought already made spaghetti and meatballs and Italian bread. She brought cream. The best thing she bought was what looked like a giant eclair. It had layers from the bottom up: dough, custard, cream and the dough top covered in chocolate. My hands were covered in cream and chocolate. I felt like a little kid, a contented little kid.