My favorite season is fall on Cape Cod. This week it will be in the 70’s every day. The nights are perfect, wonderful for sleeping, down to the 50’s and 60’s. Earlier we had sun, but now we have clouds. I’m hoping for more sun.

The house is quiet. The street is quiet. I don’t even hear a car. The Sundays of my childhood were quiet. I’d walk to mass. It didn’t matter the weather. Once in a while I’d go with my father to the early mass where he was an usher. I always sat on his side of the church so I could my dime into his basket. He used to shake it a little in front of me, a hello. Back then, both the upstairs and the downstairs of the church were filled with people. I liked the downstairs better, no sermon. The mass there finished quickly.

I never went bike riding or wandering on a Sunday. It was a family day. I loved Sunday dinners. They were special. We usually had a roast of beef or chicken. We always had mashed potatoes and gravy. I was a potato sculptor along the lines of Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters. I used to make a well in the middle of my potatoes, and that’s where I’d put the gravy. The contest was to keep the gravy from spilling over the side of the potatoes.

When I was a kid, I didn’t eat many vegetables. My mother picked her battles and served only the ones we’d eat. She’d serve corn on the cob in the summer and niblet corn or creamed corn in the winter. I liked the taste of creamed corn, but I hated it spreading into my potatoes. Baby peas were and still are my favorite. She’d sometimes serve green beans or yellow beans or French green beans. I’d eat a few. My father liked asparagus right from the can. If you held one spear up on your fork, it drooped at the middle.

I was never good at spitting watermelon seeds or cherry pits. We’d have contests, and I’d lose every time. Mostly I just spit and dribbled on my chin. The seeds fell to the ground. I had a friend who was the best seed spitter. Those seeds flew. I always envied him. I never did figure out the technique.

I have to go out today. I’d much prefer staying home in my cozies, but I need Tylenol. I also need bread and cream, my staples. I’m also thinking treats, biscuits for the dogs and Snickers for me.

This entry was posted on September 14, 2025 at 12:39 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.