The morning is cloudy but warm, 72°. I’m going to collect branches so I can be working outside enjoying the lovely weather. The dogs stay out much longer on days like today. Nala sleeps on a patch of grass in the sun. Henry is near the deck just sitting and watching the world. They appreciate the day.

When I was a little kid, I didn’t have many decisions I needed to make. I wore uniforms to school so I didn’t need to choose an outfit. I had school shoes which doubled as church shoes. I had church clothes, dresses or skirts. I had play clothes. The first thing I did after school every day was to change from my school clothes to my play clothes. That had been ingrained in me as soon as first grade, and it stayed with me all of my life. I never gave it any thought. It just was.

My father always claimed I had a wise mouth. He didn’t mean it as a compliment. He meant I answered him back. I even answered his rhetorical questions. That bothered him the most. My favorite was, “What do you think you’re doing?” I figured that deserved an answer. My father didn’t agree. His, “How many times do I have to tell you,” was also rhetorical, but I gave him an answer anyway. My mother’s favorite was, “Just wait until your father gets home.” When I was little, it scared me, but as I got older, I considered it an idle threat. At some point when I was older, the threats and questions stopped. I don’t remember when.

Spring and summer are noisy seasons. My windows are open so I hear all the sounds. The birds sing to welcome the dawn. On a breezy day, I can hear the winds chimes. Their sound sweetens the air. Henry barks if anyone dares walk by my house. He has a deep bark. At night, when he is outside, it can be disconcerting. At night, I can hear the frogs who live by the tiny pond at the end of my street. The crickets and katydids chirp, and sometimes I even hear the cicadas buzzing. The night is alive.

I know all the sounds my house makes. At night, it creaks and groans. The dogs’ paws click on the wood floors. Sometimes when both dogs run down the stairs they sound like a herd of buffalos. My street is small so I know when a car goes by the house. Henry sometimes barks. He is my protector.

As for today, I can hear the leaves rustling and the chimes ringing.

This entry was posted on May 28, 2025 at 12:20 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.