The day is beautiful. The darkness of yesterday has given way to a bright sun and a blue sky. It is 74°, a perfect temperature. Last night was cool, down to the mid 60’s. I easily fell asleep.

When I was a kid, fall meant darkness came earlier every day. After school there wasn’t much time to play or bike ride or wander a little before the streetlights came on, and we had to go inside to get ready for supper. We’d watch TV while my mother finished getting supper ready. I remember the sound of her mashing the potatoes. The masher would clink when it hit the side of the pan. The hot vegetables were in pans sitting on the stove. They’d be corn or peas or green beans. I remember ground beef in gravy topping the mashed potatoes. That was one of my favorite suppers. I’d mix in the peas. It wasn’t pretty. We’d watch TV after supper. My father always came home late, too late to sit with us at supper. He was a salesman, and his territory was the south shore, a long ride away. In my mind’s eye I see him wearing a top coat and a fedora when he came in the front door.

Because at this time of year the mornings kept the evening chill, my mother would force me to wear a sweater to school because my uniform blouse had short sleeves. I’d ditch the sweater for the walk home. After school, every kid in the world had to change from school clothes to play clothes. I’d change into girls’ dungarees, the sort with a zipper in the front pocket, a jersey, a light jacket or a sweatshirt and sneakers, dirty white sneakers with pointed toes. Sometimes, when it got colder, I’d wear flannel lined dungarees with a pocket zipper, the start of my cozy clothes.

I vacuumed this morning. That high pitched squeal you might hear is my sloth complaining. I feel it’s pain.

This entry was posted on September 4, 2026 at 2:52 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.