Each morning, when I first wake up, I look out the window in my bedroom. This morning I saw the brightest sun and a deep, deep blue sky, a beautiful day with a high of 78° and a low of 54°. The weather report, though, does say a moderate chance of scattered showers after 3 PM, but I figure moderate makes it unlikely.

It is time to put my factotum, Skip, to work. I have a long list of spring work, things like replacing boards on the deck rail, power washing the deck and wooden chairs, planting pots with flowers and herbs and decorating for the summer with flags and candles and the fish table. I’m ready for coffee and papers on the deck.

I need a new dump sticker. The town calls it a transfer station sticker, a euphemism. The cost is $190.00. That gives me the privilege of dumping my own trash and recycling five days a week. How exciting!

Once, on a bus, I saw a woman who was constantly talking light her cigarette then put the lit end in her mouth. She sputtered and spit. I have no idea why I remember that.

I have a confession. On my way to Sandwich a long time back when I was young and reckless I got stopped for speeding, not once but twice. I got a warning each time. I have never had a speeding ticket.

I loved riding my Honda in Ghana. When I bought it, they taught me how to shift. My trip home from buying it was 100 miles on a paved road. The ride took well over four hours. I was a bit nervous when the lorries and the buses passed me. I could feel the breeze. I only stopped once to stretch my legs and buy some fruit from an auntie selling along the roadside in some small village. I noticed people walking on the roads or in the fields without seeing a compound or a village. I wondered where they came from and how far they were walking. I had a helmet. Peace Corps insisted we wear one and sent one to me. I didn’t wear it much. It was hot and bulky. I was attacked, sort of, by a herd of goats. They turned into me and hit my bike. That surprised me, and I dropped the bike and got burned from the exhaust. Another time, in the bush, I saw a troop of baboons cross the road. I stopped. One of them gave me a long look, but I never moved and he lost interest. I used to ride into town for market day. I brought shepherd’s bags with me to load with my purchases. They are woven bags which stretch. I’d fill the bags with oranges, plantain, yams, eggs and even a pineapple. I’d put the heavy bags on each handlebar. They hung to my knees. I’d hope for the best.

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