The heat is coming back but not quite yet. Today will be sunny with a high of 75° and a low of 60°. Right now it is a gorgeous day. It is a day to be outside. I have a few perennials I bought on sale which need to be planted, and I found the perfect spots in the front garden, a garden now alive with fall flowers. The clematis has bloomed. The fence is covered in white flowers. The flowers have also grown up the trunk of the pine tree. The pink hibiscus is bright with color. I noticed a few plants in the small bed have buds. I have no idea what the plants are. I’ll just have to be patient until they bloom.

When I was a kid, my father planted pansies in the front garden. I remember the purple ones with yellow and white faces. Winter pansies are the first flowers I bought for this house. They felt like old friends.

My lawn is green with mostly moss. I even pulled up a few lawn weeds when I went to get the paper this morning. Across the street, my neighbor’s yard is brown. That is the color of summer this year.

On the TV weather last night, the map showed the cape in high drought. The weatherman noted most storms have skipped the cape this year. I want a rainstorm with claps of thunder and jagged lightning across the sky and a deluge so loud it makes it difficult to hear anything but the rain. If the rain falls straight, I can sit on the deck under the umbrella and become part of the storm.

The dogs hurry outside in the mornings. Nala always goes first out the dog door followed by Henry. They do their business quickly then come inside for their morning biscuits. Henry takes his to the rug. Nala eats hers in the same spot where I handed it to her. She eats even the smallest crumbs. When they are done, they go back outside. They only came in for the biscuits. Smart dogs!

Today is dump day, a sacred day. It is also outdoor chore day. I have a lot to do: plant the new flowers, water the deck plants, see to my little library and sweep a bit of the deck where I spilled some dirt. I’ll also take lunch on the deck and eat to music playing from my deck Alexa. This sounds like a wonderful day, a perfect day.

The rain comes and goes. Everywhere else seems to have deluges. We have sprinkles. It rains just enough for the dogs’ paws to get muddy and leave prints on my newly washed and waxed kitchen floor. I clean the prints off even though I know they will reappear again and again. I just can’t give in to the mud, a bit of compulsion I know.

The windows are shut against the rain. The dampness makes it feel colder. Today will be chilly. Right now it is 66° and will rise only to 70°.

When I was a kid, I walked to school every day whether it was a pretty day or a rainy day or a snowy day. I didn’t mind pretty or snowy, but I hated walking on rainy days. I had to sit in class with my socks and shoes and even the bottom of my skirt wet. I had snow boots but not rain boots. My shoes squished when I walked. My socks got heavy when they were wet, especially on the bottoms. Sometimes I would wring them out in the girls’ room. They never seemed to dry.

In the winter on a rainy day, the classroom smelled like wet wool. All of the windows were shut so the air didn’t clear. It was a bit thick, almost stifling. We didn’t go out for recess on a rainy day. We ate lunch and, afterwards, we could walk around the classroom, but it didn’t help much to get over not going outside and not having recess. The last classes went slowly. The clock never seemed to move. The minutes took hours.

Afternoons at home, after another walk in the rain, were comfy and cozy. I’d put on dry, warm clothes, get comfortable in bed under the covers and read. It was my private place, my quiet place. I always had a book, sometimes two books, waiting to be read.

Even now, I love being cozy on a rainy day. The sound of the rain beating against the windows and the roof is comforting, holding me close and lulling me to my quiet place. I do love the rain.

The morning is pretty but warm and humid. It is already 74°. Rain is predicted for this evening into tomorrow. I should have foreseen that forecast. Yesterday I washed and waxed the kitchen, bathroom and hall floors. I figure rain is a direct consequence of this frenzy of activity. I am driving myself crazy with all this cleaning. It has to stop.

Today I’m heading out to Agway to buy a few flowers. The perennials are on sale. I also want to buy a certain cat food which Jack devoured last night. I have been buying a variety of tastes to find out which Jack will eat. Most mornings, when I clean his dish, I end up throwing away just about a whole can but not today. Almost all of is gone. It is also the most expensive of any I’e bought. Of course it is.

When I was a kid, Labor Day confused me. How is it that people don’t work on Labor Day? I figured it should have been called Day Off Day. Back then everything was closed except corner stores. The red store was open, but I don’t think the white store was. Labor Day was also the last day of summer for most kids. School started on Tuesday. I was always excited for school to start, for a change in my day. I filled my school bag with the new pencil case, binders and white lined paper. My mother always made an amazing lunch on the first day. Hostess usually made an appearance.

Last night when the dogs went out I did too. I sat on the deck for a while. All the houses but mine were dark. I could hear the dogs in the brush of my backyard, and when Nala ran, I could hear the jingle of her tags. Henry joined me and kept watch. Nala stayed in the yard. They both followed me into the house.

The coffee is delicious. I think it is from Honduras. The toast with peanut butter hit the spot. I even shared a little with the dogs, and that was a huge sacrifice. This morning is quiet. The only sounds I hear are the insects singing as they warm their wings in the sun. It is a chilly morning. The house is so cold I put on a sweatshirt. The sky is a bit cloudy. It will be in the low 70’s today. It will be a pretty day.

When I was a kid, Saturday was the best day of the week. I didn’t have to go to church. I had no homework to do, and my favorite programs were on in the morning. I could lie on the rug in front of the TV, eat my Rice Krispies and watch my programs. I loved Captain Midnight. He gave me my first taste of science fiction, and I was hooked. Sometimes, after my breakfast, I roamed. I walked around town. I loved to window shop in the square. I always wished I had enough money for a chocolate cupcake from Hank’s. I loved the sweetness of Hank’s window and the aroma of fresh bread baking wafting out the door. In the Stoneham Spa, I always wanted a lime rickey. On the wall there was a sign touting the drink, but I had no idea what a lime rickey was, and I had never tasted a lime. The drug store always made their cokes. My favorite was a vanilla coke. I looked at the cheese shop windows and the barrels of cheese in front of the store, mostly cheddar, but I wasn’t tempted. My fifty cent allowance would allow me to buy a new book and have a penny leftover for a fireball.

I remember wearing sleeveless blouses in the summer usually with a pair of shorts and sneakers. The tan on my arms started at the shoulder. My face and arms have always had freckles, compliments of my mother’s gene pool. Every summer I’d get more, and the ones I had popped in the sun. They always made me look even more tan than I was.

Today I have some house chores. The bed needs changing, and I need to hang my new American flag and the Ghanaian flag already on a pole. My front yard will be adorned. I have a few things needing to be placed somewhere in the yard, an oil lantern, a metal bird and a couple of whirligigs. I bought a new tool, a rechargeable screwdriver type drill. I’ll use it today for the first time. I’ll be careful. I know how I am around tools.

The clematis on the fence and the pole has started to bloom. The bees are back. They just loved the clematis even more than I do.

I should be singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” Today has the feel of fall about it, a lovely feel of fall. The temperature is 63°, and the high will only reach 73° with little humidity. The sun is really bright. Everything is still. All the doors and windows are open. The dogs skipped their morning naps to stay outside.

I am going out and about today. I’m going to the hardware store to buy a screw gun or whatever it’s called. I have a few things to hang outside. I’m getting so handy!

I have had a burst of energy the last couple of days. I have rearranged all sorts of doohickeys in the living room and kitchen. This morning I brought up old pictures from the cellar which I had totally forgotten. I was down the cellar to wash the spread from my bed when I saw a box with frames sticking out of it. Yup, you read that right. I was washing my spread. It never sat by the cellar door for days growing legs. I’ll have to note this event in my diary. Anyway, I found an old woven frame with a print of beautiful flowers inside. I’ll be carrying it around the house until I find the perfect spot.

When I was a kid, I never noticed pictures on the walls except for the one in the bathroom right across from the toilet. I read it all the time I sat. It was a poem. A small boy in a blue robe holding a towel, soap and a brush was beside of the poem. It was a Mabel Lucie Attwell wall plaque. I read it so many times I had it memorized. “Please remember – don’t forget – never leave the bathroom wet,” was how the poem started. On a trip to Ireland, that every same picture, the original, was on the wall of the bathroom. I tried to buy it, no deal. I then went hunting on line and found a metal reproduction. I ordered it and gave it to my mother in her Christmas stocking. She was thrilled when she opened it and couldn’t believe I had remembered the poem. When she passed away, I took the metal plaque and put it in my bathroom. I see it every day and every day I am reminded of my mother.

This morning is the sort which makes you smile. The air is cool from last night, the leaves, blown by the strong wind, are rustling as they sway, the sun is bright and the blue sky is deep and beautiful. The dogs have been running in the yard, coming in only for their sips of coffee and a bit of toast with peanut butter. I’ll be out and about today with a stop at the dump and another at Agway for pet food and some mums.

The clematis spread across the front fence is filled with buds and a few flowers, the first to bloom. The pine tree by the front garden also has clematis laden with buds. It has climbed half-way up the tree trunk. Every day I check for more flowers and can barely wait until the fence and the tree are draped in white.

Miss Nala scared me this morning. I called her, but she didn’t come. I went on the deck and called. No Nala. I went into the yard and didn’t see her. I knew she couldn’t get out of the yard, but she scared me nonetheless. I decided to check the house and noticed the open gate to Jack’s room. She was there. She got in but couldn’t get out. The food was all gone. She wagged her stub of a tail at me, but I was having none of it. Poor Jack was hiding and wouldn’t come out from his hiding spot which I suspect was under one of the beds. I filled his dishes again. That dog is an endless pit.

In Ghana, in Bolga, this is still the rainy season. The millet is so high you can’t see beyond the first rows along the dirt roads. Everything is green, the wild grass, the leaves of the trees and the crops surrounding the compounds. It rains every day. When I went back to Bolga, I’d sit at a table in the hotel’s outside restaurant and watch the rain. It was my favorite place to sit and watch and listen as the rain fell on the roof above my head.

I learned early on, during Peace Corps training, that rain never interferes with daily life. I’d shop on market days even in the rain. I never saw a puddle. The ground quickly sucked up the rain. I never saw anyone carrying an umbrella. The rain is welcomed. The rain is a blessing.

The morning is ugly. It is hot and humid. The temperature is already 77°. The sky was partly cloudy earlier this morning then the sun and the blue sky made an appearance, but they’re gone again. I suspect it will be the same all day, sun and clouds, clouds and sun. Rain is predicted for tomorrow, but, as always, I am skeptical of any thoughts of rain. It seems to avoid the cape.

My dance card is filled this week. I have some uke events including a concert early this afternoon, practice tonight and a lesson tomorrow. The last play of the season at the Playhouse is Friday. The summer is winding down so very quickly. It seems always to be the shortest season.

Nothing was stolen yesterday even though I was out for a few hours. The trash bag was in the kitchen. I was on the road when I remembered. When I got home, I slowly opened the front door expecting trash like dog food cans and cat cans. There was nothing. I gave both dogs a well earned biscuit for good behavior.

I woke up when it was barely light. When I looked out the window, I could hear the bangs and pings of acorns hitting the deck and hitting something metal. I looked for a spawn of Satan but didn’t see one. I went back to bed.

Early last night I could hear Nala barking. She almost never barks. Henry always barks. Anyway, I went out to check. Nana was moving around a tree looking up at some critter. I suspected a spawn. She was also trying to climb the tree. She didn’t.

When I was a kid, I wore sneakers all summer. They were white low tops, but I did wear high tops in black when I played basketball. My coach insisted we protect our ankles. I liked the high tops. Years later, I bought a couple of pairs of Converse high tops in wonderful colors, pink and purple. I can’t find the pink ones, but I wear the purple. I’ll hunt again for the lost pair in the vast expanses of my closet. I really like the pink.

Everything is quiet. Both dogs are sleeping. I almost want to wake up Nala as she woke me up around 8, and I didn’t get back to sleep. I’m thinking an afternoon nap might be in order.

A bit of the heat is returning today and bringing along with it the humidity, but the morning still has a bit of the night, a coolness, a pleasant breeze from the south. The yard is filled with sunlight. Nala found the best spot in the back of the yard in the sun. I called her and she ignored me at first, but then she got up, reluctantly, and came to the deck.

First thing this morning, I went out with the dogs hoping to find my sandal. It disappeared last night and I immediately went hunting, but in the dark I couldn’t see anything even with the back lights on. This morning I saw Nala race to her newest hole and dig out my sandal. She ran with it in her mouth, and I could see the dirt falling out as she ran. I knew better than to chase her. Finally, I enticed her to drop it, grabbed her collar and got the sandal. It was dirty but didn’t even have tooth marks. I wonder what will go missing today.

When I was a kid, this week would have been the last hurrah, the last week of freedom, the last week before school. My mother would take us shopping for new shoes, new uniforms and school supplies. The uniforms were easy, a blue skirt, white blouse and a cowboy tie, or at least that’s what I called it. We could wear whatever shoes we wanted to school so my mother hauled us all down to the shoe store where I got my feet x-rayed, and I put my foot on the silver metal slide to find my shoe size. My mother bought us sturdy shoes, tie shoes, hoping they’d last the whole year through rain and snow and recess.

Picking out my lunch box and pencil case took time. They would be me, the only things I could choose. My lunch boxes often had TV characters on them. I remember my Annie Oakley lunch box. My pencil cases had a different scene on the front but the same things inside as all other pencil cases. I never did know what to do with the plastic triangle except to make straight lines. Sharpening my pencils with the little sharpener took time and was a bit messy as all the shavings ended up either on the table or on the floor. When I was in the fourth grade, I chose a plaid lunch box and a plastic pencil case with a zipper. I was older then.