Sometime early this morning it rained. I was in that hazy time between asleep and awake when I heard the drops. I went back to sleep. It was misty when I woke up, but the rain has since stopped. It is a dreary day. The humidity is high. The morning is dark. It is cloudy. Intermittent rain is predicted. Right now it is 79°.

I took my time this morning. I had no incentive. Even the dogs are quiet. I finished all the puzzles in the paper. That may be my only accomplishment today.

Summer days when I was a kid seemed endless. The light stretched into the night hours. We could go out and play after supper. We just had to stay around the neighborhood, within shouting range. Sometimes we played games in the street like Red Light-Green Light, Simon Says and Red Rover. In Red Rover the strong were early picks. Little kids were tail-end picks.

I remember the street light being a sort of alarm clock. It was time to go inside. The living room lights in all the houses were the first to be lit. They were the front lights behind the picture windows. I always took comfort from those lights shining through.

I was never afraid at night. Even when I was older and walking home in the dark I never worried. Street lights shined on the roads. House lights shined on the sidewalks. Usually I was alone walking home from drill. I wore sneakers so my footsteps were muted. It was quiet. Back then few cars were out at night on the little roads. The loudest sounds were the night insects, the katydids and the crickets. They sang in harmony.

Of late I have become nocturnal. I usually don’t go to bed until after 2. Some nights I go outside with the dogs. They run into the yard, and I stand on the deck. I always feel a little like Ozymandias before the break. My neighborhood has no street lights. A few outside porch lights are lit. I can hear the insects and the frogs singing far different songs. I sometimes see a car, but I never see any other people. I always feel I own the night.

The morning is again delightful. It is 74°, and a slight breeze is blowing. I can hear only the birds. I think they are castigating me as the feeders are empty. The dogs are napping. They are exhausted from going out and then coming back inside for their treats. My father always said he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

This is a slow week. I have only four uke events including two concerts. The rest of my dance card is empty. I see books and deck time in my near future.

When I was growing up, I never realized my family didn’t have much money. Even living in the project gave no hint of it as the project was surrounded by places filled with wonder. We had the field, wild blueberries, the woods and best of all, we had the swamp. I had friends who also lived in the project. We walked to school together every day and played together in the afternoons. I wore a uniform to school so I didn’t need a wardrobe filled with clothes. I had my play clothes, my cozy clothes and a skirt or two to wear to church. That was more than I really needed. We went to the drive-in almost every Saturday. My grandfather had a pass, and we brought our own treats, candy, popcorn and Zarex in the jug. What I remember most was I never got to see the end of the second movie. My father, a hater of crowds and lines, always left early. During his vacation we mostly did day trips and jaunts to the beach. Thanks to him I am a lover of museums.

I remember the BIG vacation. We went to Niagara Falls. We stayed in motels and even ate at a few restaurants. We went to Madam Tussaud’s wax museum near the falls. I’ve told this dad story before, but it is worth another telling. In the wax museum, my father told the lady in the booth 4 adults and 2 children. She ignored him. He repeated a bit louder than the first time then repeated one more time, quite loud this time. On a bench near the counter were a few old ladies laughing. I think they were waiting for my father. He didn’t realize that the ticket teller was wax. That still makes me laugh. We walked under the falls. We saw the Eisenhower Locks. We slept in a house on the shore of Lake Ontario. My father drove home through the Mohawk Trail. I don’t know how my parents were able to afford that vacation. I just know they made it spectacular.