The hahaha was loud this morning. I think it was Mother Nature reminding me who is in charge. Winter is coming back, not that it really left. Two warm days just made us hopeful. Tonight the high will be 28°, and there will be light snow. It will be in the 30’s the next two nights. Today is ugly, cloudy and damp.

Because my dance card is totally empty until Tuesday, I’m stuck doing the house chores I have been ignoring. The clumps of dog hair on the floor are lifted into the air when I walk by. I can leave messages in the dust on the tables. The kitchen is the cleanest room because I usually clean it while I’m waiting for dinner to cook. The floor does need to be washed, but I won’t because we may have snow flurries and paw prints would be back.

When I was a kid, winter, after Christmas, was mostly boring. The weekdays were the same month to month. Darkness came early. I’d get home from school, change into my play clothes, do any homework I might have then I’d watch TV until dinner then I’d watch TV after dinner. My mother dictated bedtime. “It’s a school night,” she’d remind us as if we hadn’t heard it most weeknights. I’d go to bed but then I’d secretly read under the covers. Sometimes I got caught but only sometimes. I don’t know what time I’d give in and go to sleep, but it was always at the end of a chapter.

I could smell word burning this morning probably from someone’s fireplace. It is one of my favorite smells. I love sitting on the deck close to my chiminea on a cool evening while wood burns. I use piñon wood from New Mexico. When I lived in Ghana, my food was cooked on a sort of habachi, no oven. The charcoal was wood charcoal with the sweetest aroma. Charcoal villages make the wood charcoal. One time I was hitching from Tamale to Bolga, about a hundred miles. One ride dropped me at a small village along the main road. It was a charcoal village. Smoke rose from burning tree trunks on the ground. The aroma was everywhere including on my clothes. I got a ride because small boys from the village stood in the road and stopped cars for me. The ride took me right to my road off the main road in Bolga. My clothes still carried a bit of the aroma of the charcoal.

I need a few groceries, cream for my coffee being paramount. The problem is I don’t want to get dressed to go out. Ugly days like today should be spent close to hearth and home. Even the dogs don’t want to go out. The question is which is more important, staying warm and cozy or making sure I have cream for my coffee. I need to ponder.

I have been absent the last couple of days, Sunday to see a play and yesterday because my iPad would not charge. Overnight it did charge so here I am.

Yesterday was the most amazing day. It was spring with everything spring brings. It was warm, dare I say hot. The sun was bright and shined on everything. The sky was an extraordinary color of blue. The dogs and I were energized. They zoomed the yard then Nala just sat on the deck taking in the sun. Henry roamed the yard. He never zooms. I finished tasks. It was a wonderful day.

The dogs are having their morning naps. Henry is right beside Nala with his head resting on her back. She doesn’t care. She is sound asleep. These dogs feel entitled, my fault. Nala rings doggie bells to go out. Henry keeps whacking the dog door to come in. They follow me to the kitchen. They sleep on my bed, keep in mind both dogs are over 65 pounds, and I have a double bed, an old double bed. Nala watches the microwave. They watch me eat hoping for a tidbit. I am a sucker for these dogs.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, was not allowed on the furniture. He slept on the floor, usually on a rug. To get away from the no furniture rule, he’d stand on his back feet and stretch the rest of him across the bed or couch. He slept on the couch at night but jumped off before he’d get caught. We could hear him, but he was too quick. Some mornings he’d follow kids to school despite my father calling him over and over. He’d turn and look at my father then take off in the opposite direction. That infuriated my father who’d jump into his car and give chase. We rooted for Duke.

Today is another spring-like day. It is 50°. My yard needs heavy duty spring cleaning. Both the front and back yards are still filled with fallen limbs and branches. The snow is mostly gone except for small piles under the backyard trees and along the plow route. Nala is a happy dog. She brings in small branches and carries them about the house as if they are trophies. I’m forever stepping on small pieces of chewed branches that blend with the rug. She also brings in pine cones. I step on those too.

My dance card is sort of empty for the week. I saw my friend in a play on Sunday, zoomed uke practice last night, and I have my lesson and only concert for the week tomorrow. It is a quiet week.

When I first let the dogs out, it was foggy. I love fog. It always looks and feels eerie as if creatures are hiding and roaming unseen. I can imagine the sound of the shuffle of their feet as they walk.

Today will be cloudy but warm with a high of 47°. A few tall branches are swaying a bit but the rest of the trees are quiet, still. I don’t hear birds or cars or people. The dogs are napping on the couch. Jack is quiet. He likes to nap in front of the register in the guest room. I put an afghan down so he’d be comfortable. When I go up stairs, Jack comes out for some loving. His fur is usually warm. Cats know how to live.

I don’t drink just milk. I use it for cereal, for milk shakes, for recipes, for coffee and for dunking biscotti and cookies. I drank it when I was a kid. I don’t remember when I stopped drinking it, in Ghana I think. When I was in college, the milkman delivered to my apartment. My father arranged it. He worked for HP Hood, a dairy company. I’d sometimes add bread to the delivery. In Ghana, we were told not to drink milk. The cows could be tuberculin. We could drink Fan milk and Fan ice cream, It was sold on the streets by boys on bicycles. Attached to the handlebars of each bike was a cooler of sorts. Fan milk was sold in small triangular packets making it a perfect street food.

When I was a kid, we had both chocolate and white milk delivered. We never drank the chocolate milk straight. We always combined it with the white as the chocolate was a bit thick and mixing it made it last longer. My father loved Hershey’s syrup. Adding a couple of spoonfuls to white milk replaced the chocolate milk delivery. He lavishly poured the syrup on his ice cream, his vanilla ice cream. My mother made sure there was always a can of Hershey’s syrup. My father did love his treats.

I still love Oreo cookies and would probably dunk them if I had milk. The universal way to eat an Oreo is common knowledge, maybe even a birthright. The cookie is split in two. The plain side is eaten first eat then the side with the cream. Double stuffed Oreos are a gift from the Gods. I usually buy traditional Oreos with white cream, but I also love golden Oreos and chocolate covered Oreos. If I buy Oreos, they go quickly so I restrain myself, but I do buy them if I really need a boost, a little bit of sweetness. I still eat them in the traditional way. To eat them whole is a fall from greatness, a stepping off of the traditional path. It is the way of the adult.

The weather is the same as yesterday’s, light rain, white clouds and a temperature in the high 30’s. Over the weekend, we’ll have Sunday rain and a high of 56°. That seems like deck weather, but I’d have to shovel first.

So much has disappeared in my lifetime, and I’d like to resurrect a few. Woolworth’s would be first. It would be just like the one in the square when I was a kid. The floors were wooden and creaked. At the front was the check-out counter and the comic book stand. It spun. Rows of goods extended from the front to the back. I remember the toy section the best. It had jacks, yoyo’s, Fli-back paddles, Chinese finger traps, plastic green soldiers and card games like Old Maid. Nothing was expensive. Old ladies worked the register. They didn’t allow comic book reading. Sometimes I bought one.

I’d bring back the diner. It was one of my father’s stops. Sometimes I went with him, usually on a Saturday morning. I remember the diner in winter. You could feel the hot air as soon as you opened the door. The diner smelled of bacon in the morning and French fries later in the day. We ate in a booth with a tabletop jukebox, one choice for a dime and three choices for a quarter. My father would give me a quarter. When I was older, my friends and I would stop there after drill. I remember brownies with chocolate sauce.

I miss the milkman and the sound of clinking bottles. I miss the trash truck. I miss the guys with their barrels who picked up the trash and emptied in into the back of the truck. I remember their clothes were filthy. One of them would empty the garbage pail. It was in the ground. Its top had a pedal to open it. They’d pull out the pail and empty it into their barrel. I thought that had to be the worst job except for the nightsoil men in Ghana.

I’d bring back corner stores. They were the best stops for small items like bread or milk. They had large glass candy counters filled with penny candy and I remember one of them had a counter with everything Hostess. Corner stores had a feel about them, a personal feel.

I’m done pondering.

“We’re having a heat wave,” okay, a slight heat wave. It is only 33° now but a high of 40°is predicted. Rain is in the forecast. It should beat down more of the snow which is at its ugly stage. The pine trees didn’t fare well. My yards, back and front, are littered with branches and limbs. Some landed on fences. In the back a section of the fence is leaning. I think it can be saved. The front fence needs to be replaced. The snow is holding it up. Clean-up will take a while.

When I was a kid, the streets after being plowed still had a layer of snow. Summer tires were switched to either snow tires or chains. My father had his winter tires put on at the gas station. Because we lived on a hill, it was an early winter chore. Sometimes when the snow was still high on the street, my father went up the next street which by-passed most of the hill. He parked out front at the curb. Cars riding up and down the hill hard-packed the snow and made it perfect for sledding. We flew.

When I was growing up, I gave no real thought to the further beyond a day or two unless I was counting down the days until Christmas or summer vacation. I sometimes made weekend plans like going to the matinee or going bike riding usually by myself but other times with friends. On winter weekends we sometimes ice skated, at the swamp or the field. Once in a while, we’d take the bus to the MDC rink. It was the best rink. It had two round fenced in rinks, and a building where you could sit inside on benches to get warm, and you could even buy food. If I had the money, I’d buy hot chocolate then skate a little more. To get home, we used to have to cross over the busy road at the Middlesex Fells so we could catch the bus back. The bus stopped off the road at the front of the neatest house, a part of the New England Sanitarium and Hospital, where I was born as was Buffy St. Marie. The house had a beautiful rock front. Students nurses lived there. I remember them in uniform getting on the bus. They’d get off in the square.

My dance card has a few entries this week, all uke. I have the usual practice and lesson, and we have one concert. We’re playing Irish, one of my favorite uke music books. It will be good, my getting back into the world.

The early morning was sunny. Now the sun is behind the clouds. They are suspicious clouds, the sort which hides surprises. It is cold, 39°, the high for the day. I’m warm. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee. I read the newspaper. It is an ordinary winter’s day. This morning I checked my mailbox for the first time since last Monday. When I opened it, I had the best surprise. A soft package was stuffed in at the front. It took me a while of tugging and pulling to free it and the pile of mail behind it, including a small box in the way back. As soon as I got inside, I opened the package. My sister and brother-in-law had sent me a Cape Cod Ukulele Club shirt. I was thrilled. Their thoughtfulness gave me the biggest boost, gave me joy. Serendipity! Also, in the mail was my coffee. This month’s coffee, a medium roast, is from Peru, from the San Ignacio region, a mountainous region. I’m excited to try it.

When I was a kid, I drank cocoa every morning. I remember the top of the cocoa in the cup had small bubbles from my mother stirring it into the hot milk. The cocoa was thick and silky, at least that’s how my tongue remembers it. I always yummed after the first sip. I remember the cocoa container had a slot on the top. The slot was for coins. The container became a bank after the cocoa was finished. I remember my money always smelled like cocoa.

I love the taste of cinnamon. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes sprinkle cinnamon sugar on my cereal. For a nickel I could buy the cinnamon flavored Life Saver roll. Every Christmas I got the Life Saver’s book in my stocking. The first roll I’d eat was always the cinnamon followed by the root beer roll. My sister sent me cinnamon lollipops from See’s Candy one year. After the first lick, I was addicted. I bought a couple of boxes more. I got more for Christmas. I bought more. Finally I called a halt. I got a See’s catalogue the other day. I’m afraid to look through it. I have no resistance.

This week I get to join the world. I haven’t left my house since last Sunday though I did have two visitors, my friend Mary Allen and my nephew Tim. Both of them brought light. Tim shoveled me out, cleared the back stairs for Henry and brought hot food and coffee. He took trash. Mary Allen brought me the vegetables for my sausage dinner. She brought already made spaghetti and meatballs and Italian bread. She brought cream. The best thing she bought was what looked like a giant eclair. It had layers from the bottom up: dough, custard, cream and the dough top covered in chocolate. My hands were covered in cream and chocolate. I felt like a little kid, a contented little kid.

I woke earlier than usual. I was shocked to find it only a bit after nine. I can’t remember the last time I had so much morning. so much extra time. I dawdled and had an English muffin and two cups of coffee. The day is pretty and warmish. It might even get to 40°. I have no plans except for a few household chores.

When I was in Ghana, my students wanted to know everything about my home. They would visit after study hours. I’d hear a knock then what sounded like caw, caw. They’d leave their shoes at the front door then come inside. I showed them pictures of my home and family and answered their questions. They wanted to know why I had no children being as old as I was, 22, and why no husband. They wondered how Mary had Jesus but was still a virgin. For that one, I just said it was God’s way. They asked about snow. Their understanding of cold was based on harmattan weather when the nights could get as chilly as the 60’s or 70’s and even colder. My students layered for those cold mornings. I chuckled and enjoyed the cooler morning. I used crushed ice cubes to give them an idea of real cold. I even threw a few snowballs. If they were here for this storm, they would have believed the world was ending.

I still can see in my mind’s eye the house where I grew up. It was on a corner lot so we had a bigger front yard than the other duplexes. Just beyond the steps was a grassy hill. Below the hill was a sidewalk. On it was mailbox and a streetlight pole. Sitting inside by the picture window was my favorite spot when it snowed. I’d watch the snow fall. It was highlighted by the streetlight. The snow would sometimes fall sideways, blown by the wind. There was a fierceness about it. Sometimes large, wet flakes would fall. They took a while to stick to the ground. The smaller flakes fell constantly and quickly covered the ground. I’d keep checking to see how deep the snow was getting. My last check was just before bed. I fell asleep hopeful that the snow was covering everything, that I’d hear the no school fire alarm. Back then, for every kid, snow was a good thing.

On Wednesday around ten the electricity came back on. By then my house was 39°. I was wearing so many layers you’d be hard press to identify the stack of clothes as human. The lights had gone off on Monday, early afternoon. Between then and now was an adventure of sorts but not the sort you’d chose.

I gathered my supplies. That was an easy task as I hadn’t many. I had a Rayovac lantern, a dim flashlight and several candles. It was while I was writing Coffee on Monday that the lights went out, around 1. At first I just sat and read. The wind was raging. I could hear branches making Halloween scary scratching noises on the house, on two sides. The dogs looked up a few times but then ignored the sound. All I could hear was the wind. The house started to get cold. I added a heavy sweater, grabbed more layers, a hat and some mittens in case I needed them. I was warm enough but only for a while.

The dogs wouldn’t go out during the storm. Who could blame them? The house temperature kept falling, but that first day was bearable. I slept through the night covered in blankets. From the next day on the house got colder and so did I. The days were spent reading using a flashlight and trying to turn the pages with my mittens on.

In front, on the side and in backyard of my house are fallen trunks of pine trees. One landed on the fence which is only standing upright as it is being held by the fallen tree. It is the same with the front fence.

Poor Henry didn’t fare well. Part of a fallen tree with all its branches fell cross the back steps. Neither dog would walk underneath the tree to the yard. I then broke as many branches as I could. Nala went under the branches to the yard. Henry did too but had trouble going up the stairs. I called and called and he finally came up. Later both dogs went out again. Nala came inside. Henry would not. He stood at the end of the stairs whining and crying. It went on too long. I decided to save him. I laid down on my back on the deck and tried to go under the branches to Henry. I got stuck in the branches and couldn’t get up the stairs. Finally I freed myself but couldn’t stand up. More of this part of the story in a bit.

My family and my friends were worried. I was alone with two dogs, a cat and no heat. The texts went back and forth between my family and friends. They sent a police officer to do a wellness check. I passed. My nephew in North Carolina called my nephew here, and he came. He checked in with me to see what I needed. Tim brought a pizza, hot coffee, Reese’s and a new flashlight and batteries. He cleared the front and back steps of snow. He left and said he’s be back the next day to shovel out my car. This is when the worst of Henry’s nightmare started. He wouldn’t come up the steps, too many branches in the way. He stood at the bottom crying and trying to go up the stairs. I got crazy that poor Henry wouldn’t climb the stairs. I did the slide on my back down the stairs and got caught again. This time was worse. I couldn’t get unstuck, too many branches grabbing at me. I was the character in the horror movie destined to die, killed by tree branches. Finally I got upright. I was soaked. Henry was still at the foot of the stairs. That went on for 40 minutes. I called my nephew, and he came and cleared the tree. Henry came inside but was nervous and jumpy all night. Yesterday he was back to normal.

My family and friends were lifesavers. They tried to keep track of me. My dear, good friend brought me food yesterday. The surprise was a pastry so good my fingers got covered in chocolate and cream. She brought dinner and cream for my coffee. My family and friends kept in touch with each hoping one of them would hear from me. Once I had electricity back, I called them all. I am ever so thankful.

Now what did I learn? First, I’ll not be sliding on my back down the stairs again. I’ll have more light, more lanterns. I’ll have more than crackers and peanut butter in my cupboard. I’ll fill a closet with blankets. I’ll have more chocolate. that last one is critically important.

This is the Coffee I was writing on Monday when the electricity decided to hibernate. It gives you an idea of the storm. I will write another later today.

The end of the world is nigh. The snow continues. The weatherman calls it a bombogenesis. The snow is so wet and heavy branches are strewn about on the deck and around the yard. The dogs couldn’t get down to the backyard. A giant piece of the trunk of the pine tree by the back steps has broken off from the top of the tree and is covering the steps to the backyard. I tried to remove as much of the tree from the deck as possible, but the trunk is too heavy. I went to a backup plan I didn’t know I had and let the dogs out front without a leash. The snow is so high they had to jump to move. They stayed in front, but I lost them a bit so I don’t know if they peed or not. Henry came to the door first then a bit later Nala wanted in.

The wind is loud. It roars. The branches creak and click. Some brush the house. The pine trees especially can’t abide both the wind and the heavy snow. Their branches break and fall. The larger ones crash. The dogs sit up with ears perked, but it gets quiet quickly, and the dogs go back to sleep.

Last night was the worst. The nor’easter raged and the wind blew the snow sideways. The electricity went off four or five times for a minute or two. Each time it did, Henry shook. The sudden darkness scared him. He came to me so I hugged him through the fear. When the electricity went off, so did the cable. It disconnected from my network. I had to find the network and put in my password every time, twice. The cable box read boot. I left the TV on last night, and, by morning, it had righted itself.

When I went to bed, the dogs were right beside each other on my side of the bed. I left them there and slept on the other side. I didn’t read as I was afraid the light over my bed would suddenly darken and scare Henry again. When I woke up, he was stretched right beside me, something he never did until last night. This morning the light has been flickering, and every time it does, Henry growls. I’ve just turned off the light.

As long as we have heat and electricity we’ll be fine. The larder is filled. The pets have plenty of food though Jack will suffer. His treats weren’t delivered. As for me, I still don’t have any Snickers.

Oops, the lights just went off!