The morning is pretty but a bit chilly, only in the 50’s. The last few days had me thinking that the warmth of spring was here to stay so the chill is unwelcomed. Yesterday was a tee shirt day. Today is a sweatshirt day. 

Right now I am watching the very first Perry Mason. I remember watching later episodes when I was in high school. I love this episode with the men in their fedoras, the ancient looking cars and the women’s fashions, the small hats and the white gloves for every day wear. Perry is quite dapper in his patterned sports jacket with a handkerchief in his pocket. He is wearing light slacks. The music is dramatic. Perry is facing the forever prosecutor Hamilton Burger, and Lieutenant Tragg arrested his client. Years back, Perry Mason was on in the afternoons, and my friend Joan and I watched together a few afternoons a week. It was a tradition of sorts. I thought of her today when I started watching.

Memories, even some of the smallest memories, seem to hang around forever in the far back corners of my memory drawers. They jump to the fore when something clicks, when something taps that memory, sometimes something unexpected. I know smell triggers memories. The smell of wood burning takes me back to Camp Aleska, the Girl Scout camp in my hometown. It was in the woods at the end of a dirt road. The main room had a giant fireplace. It had seating all around which also served as storage. That’s where the cots were. I remember the room always smelled of wood and fire. We’d light the fireplace, and I’d fall asleep watching the light from the fire flickering and jumping. The sweet aroma of the wood burning filled the room. 

In Ghana, in the mornings, the compounds behind my house lit wood fires for cooking. I woke to the aroma of the burning wood wafting across the fields. One time, I was hitching from Tamale to Bolgatanga, my home, a hundred mile trip. One of my rides was turning off the main road so he dropped me by a tiny village. It was a charcoal village. Trees were lying on the ground and smoldering in the middle, in a sort of hewed trough. The smell from the smoke was sweet. It clung to my clothes and my hair. It stayed with me.

I am hanging around the house today. I’m missing a concert. I overdid the last few days thinking all was well. Today I’m hurting. I figure I shouldn’t have collected all the fallen pine branches in parts of my yard. I have a concert Saturday I’m looking forward to so the day of rest is in preparation. The dogs and I are comfortable on the couch. It seems the perfect spot.

This entry was posted on May 1, 2025 at 12:48 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.