Today is an ugly, chilly day. The sky is cloudy, nothing new there, and it rained for about two minutes while I was on my way home. I was cold when I went out to my appointments. I have winter coats, fleece jackets and summer shirts, but I have nothing for this mid season, for this not yet springtime on Cape Cod weather, but I’m home now and am cozy and warm.

When I was a kid, I moved into spring by putting my outside winter clothes away. I was happy to wear a light jacket with a sweater underneath it, always a cardigan. I ditched the knee socks for ankle socks. I didn’t even pretend to wear a hat.

Spring smells the best of all the seasons. After drab winter, spring is a miracle of sorts. The flowers are growing, the lilac trees are in bloom, and the sweet smell of mown grass is in the air. Some mornings I can even smell the ocean when I’m on the deck.

My mother never learned to swim. She took lessons once at the Y but quit before she had learned. I never asked my mother why she couldn’t swim and now I’m curious. My father was a great swimmer. He loved to body surf. He learned to swim at summer camp. I saw a picture of him from one summer camp. He is holding the bit of a horse and is wearing a bandana around his neck which looked like part of the camp uniform. He looked young, no older than 12 or 13. My father taught me to swim. He threw me off a wharf and hoped for the best, but he watched just to make sure I didn’t drown.

I am almost finished my book. It is called The Missing American by Kwei Quartey and takes place in Ghana. The author was born in Ghana to an American mother and a Ghanaian father. This is the third of his books I have read and is, by far, the best. Most of it happens in Accra, and he portrays the city perfectly as it now with all its blemishes. I’ll be lolling with my book the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t buy bonbons, but I did buy some pico, guac and tortilla chips, perfect snacks. I just wish I had a margarita.

The sun is hidden. The air is chilly. It will stay cloudy all day and won’t get beyond the 50’s. A wind moves even the tallest branches. I have no plans for today. The rest of my week is going to be busy so I’m designating today a sloth day.

Last night I watched B science fiction movies. One was Reptilicus. Most of it was shot in Copenhagen. Two men accompanied a woman to dinner In Tivoli Garden. In the restaurant, the entertainer sang Tivoli Night. I looked up the song on YouTube. It was a clip from the movie but it wasn’t a clip from the movie. The scene was the same, the singer was the same as were the diners in back including one smoking a cigarette. The only change was the woman with the two men. She was dark haired instead of the blond in the movie. I found that confusing. Why go through all that trouble?

I found pine needles all down the hall then I found the branch, chewed into small pieces. Nala had again brought the outside inside. Later I was with the dogs on the deck and caught Nala with another branch she was trying to get through the dog door. I threw it into the yard. She went after it so I threw it out of the yard over the fence. She gave up and went inside.

When we moved to the cape, my father bought a color TV set. I remember watching Star Trek in color for the first time. I got to see the doomed red shirted crewman before his demise. After a while, the colors of the TV began to fade. My father blamed the cable. All the colors were washed out. The doomed red shirted crewman disappeared. My father kept blaming the cable, but they came out and found nothing wrong. Finally, my father gave in and bought a new TV. The colors were brilliant. The doomed red shirted crewman was back but only until the away mission.

I miss my mother more than I can say. I wished her a happy Mother’s Day this morning. I believe she heard me.

Today is supposed to be really warm, in the 60’s. Today it is also supposed to rain. The sky is filed with light clouds, not yet ominous. The air is still. The dogs are in and out, and in between they eat each other’s faces while playing in the hall. I’m hoping their morning naps are close at hand.

My father bought a CB radio when CB radios were the rage. He kept it on the whole time we were traveling usually back and forth to Boston. He picked up all the slang. It used to make me laugh. He loved to chat. My father had good buddies and wanted to know if there were smokies. 10-4 acknowledged the information he received. We were extras in a Smokey the Bandit movie. My father was the star.

I have some really old black and white photos from a New Hampshire vacation when I was around four. One photo is of my brother and me sitting on top of a tiny waterfall. I remember doing that. I remember the water felt tingly on my legs, and I have a huge grin on my face from the tingles.

I remember another trip to visit some of my father’s relatives also in New Hampshire. The house was by a small pond. A row boat sat on the ground between the pond and the house. Its life on the water had ended. The row boat was now a planter with red flowers. My brother and I went swimming in our underwear as we hadn’t expected to swim so no bathing suits. We didn’t swim long. My mother screamed when we got out of the water. Leeches were on our backs. My father pulled them off.

Nala is much better. She is still taking pills and getting drops in her ear. She found one pill not so well hidden in her first morning piece of banana and spit it out. I tried again and duped her. She ate both pieces with better hidden pills.

On my dance card today is a uke concert at an assisted living facility. We were there a month ago and we were their first entertainment since the start of Covid. We’re singing bluegrass today.

Today is a delight. Today is a spring day. It is already 57˚ and will get to the low 60’s, long sleeve shirt weather for sure. I have no errands or chores so I’m thinking today is a perfect sloth day. I’ll sit outside for a bit, take in the sun and watch the dogs chase each other in the yard.

Nala’s ear is just about healed. The red too is almost gone from inside the ear. I’ve found that hiding her pills in a bit of banana works best.

When I was a kid, two of my favorite places up town were the library and the post office. Inside the post office it was always a bit dark and cooler than outside no matter how hot the day was. The clerks stood behind small windows with metal grates over the top. There was granite, at least I think it was granite, on the walls. The post office was built in 1940, and the only changes since then were new windows and a new double door, all meant to keep out the cold. Parking even back then was difficult to find on the street, but there is now a parking lot across from the post office where buildings used to be.

The library was build in 1903 with money donated by Andrew Carnegie. I didn’t know that until I was waiting for my father to pick me up one rainy day. There was a plaque inside where I was standing and waiting. The building is brick with a neat sloping roof and a cupola on top. It was one story with two rooms, one for kids and the other for adults. I used to go the library so often I ran out of books I liked to read so I didn’t have to wait until high school to go into the adult section. The librarian let me in early. I was in book heaven. There have been changes over the years but the library pretty much looks the same as when I was a kid.

My world now is expansive, but when I was young, my town was my world. The up town stores were all unique. I loved window shopping. The aroma of fresh bread wafted through the square from Hank’s Bakery. I could smell popcorn. I watched lobsters swimming in the tank at the Gloucester Fish Market. The stores on one side were long and narrow where there was a lunch counter and a men’s store.

All those stores now exist only in memories, old memories.

The rain started last night, but it was a light rain I barely heard. Before bed, the dogs went out anyway. They don’t mind getting wet. My kitchen floor, washed yesterday, has a trail of dog paw prints from the door down the hall. I’ll wash it later as the prediction is for clouds, not rain. It will be in the high 50’s today. Even the ugliest days are getting warmer.

Nala’s ear looks so much better. The lump is gone, and most of the redness inside her ear is also gone, but she is still not 100%. She didn’t eat her biscuit this morning. Henry ate both of them. I gave her some cheese hoping to hide her morning pills in it, but she didn’t eat the cheese so I had to put the pills down her throat. A bit later, she did manage to eat some of my English muffin on which I had slathered extra butter to entice her. She always expects the best.

When I cook eggs, usually for supper instead of breakfast, I mostly fry them sunny side though I do scramble them every now and then for a change. I always have two pieces of toast, one piece per egg for sopping purposes.

When I was in Ghana, I used to buy my eggs in the market. The man from whom I bought them always made sure I got good eggs so I would be back. My mornings eggs were fried in groundnut oil. They were the tastiest eggs. The rest of my meal was two pieces of toast with margarine on top and coffee. Later in the morning, after teaching my first class, I’d have another cup of coffee.

When I visit Ghana, breakfast is usually included wherever I stay. At one hotel in Tamale, they served porridge and fruit then two eggs and toast. At every place, the eggs have cooked yolks. The bread is often sugar bread. For the coffee, they bring hot water in a cup, small packages of ground instant coffee, one per cup, sugar cubes and canned milk.

When I visited my parents, my father sometimes cooked me Sunday breakfast. It was my universal breakfast of fried eggs, toast and coffee.

Every morning now I have two cups of coffee. Sometimes I have toast or a bagel or biscotti, all of which I share with the dogs. I dunk the last of the biscotti for them. They both like a bit of coffee.

The morning is cloudy and rain is predicted. It is damp and chilly, in the 50’s. I have no plans for the day. Yesterday I did make it to the dump but first was a stop at the emergency vet. Nala had a hugely swollen ear flap which she didn’t have the day before. She was tilting her head and shaking it. Her ear was an ominous red. At first I thought I’d wait until today so I didn’t have to pay the walk-in amount of $240, but I decided she needed to be seen before it got worse. Nala couldn’t have been better. Everyone loved her and thought her beautiful. The doctor told me they were all smitten with her. Nala was diagnosed with an infection which I had already figured she had. They drained her ear and gave me drops and pills for her. Her ear already looks better.

When I was a kid, our boxer Duke got into a horrific fight with the dog down the street. His neck was gnawed open. My mother wanted to take him to the vets, but my father thought Duke would be fine on his own. My father was only home weekends back then as he had been transferred, and we were waiting to move after school was out. My mother took advantage of his absence and brought Duke to the vets. When my father got home, Duke was much better. “See,” he told my mother. She smiled and agreed.

My father used to say he wanted to come back in life as one of our pets, all of whom have been spoiled. He also said that when he died we should just wheel him down the street to the cemetery you could see from my parents’ house. We opted to go the more traditional way.

When my dad was a kid, he wore corduroy knickers. He hated the swishing sound the pants made when he walked. My dad was into being cozy. Around the house he always wore his boxer shorts so when he’d sit on the couch and watch TV, he’d wrap a blanket around himself. His snacks were always within arm reach. I gave him corduroy pants one Christmas. My mother thought he’d never wear them, but he did. The small wale of those corduroy pants had no swishing sound. He wore those pants until the wale pattern was gone. They had become his cozies. I bought him more pairs.

Today will be warm, close to perfect, maybe even 60˚. The sun is brilliant. The sky is a dark blue. The trees are still. The wind of yesterday is gone. The dogs appreciate the weather and have been in and out all morning. They wake me up every day far too early. Both of them sleep on the couch then follow me upstairs usually after one. I spend time with Jack and then read before turning out the light always after two and even closer to three. The dogs’ schedule has to change.

When I was a kid, I was up and about early even on weekends, especially on Saturdays. I didn’t want to waste a single minute of my favorite day. Sundays were different. The day was out of my hands. I had to go to mass. I hoped for mass downstairs where there was no sermon, and the mass went quickly. Sometimes it was so full I had to stand in the back. I didn’t mind as it meant I was among the first to leave. The downstairs was small and dark. The altar too was small.

The main church, upstairs, had long stain glass windows on each side. I used to read the names, the dedications. The sun sometimes poured through and lit the church. There were three altars, two small on each side and a large one in the middle. Pendant lights hung from the tall ceiling. Everywhere was wood.

In the winter I sat in the warm church toward the back. In the summer I stood if I could or even sat outside on the steps when the church was full. The priest always gave a sermon. We were his captive audience.

Sunday afternoons we often visited my grandparents. The house was filled with aunts, uncles and cousins. On the stove was the pan of pasta so we could help ourselves. Usually it was shells, my favorite. The sauce was already on the shells. The cheese and the grater were on the table. The women sat in the kitchen. The men usually watched football upstairs. In the summer we often went to the beach after mass and stayed all day. I loved those Sundays!

Today is dump day.

The morning is chilly. The sun though bright in the sky is merely an ornament. The breeze is every now and then. It will stay in the 50’s today. The dogs love this weather. They have been in and out most of the morning. They have a routine. They wait in a line of two until I first open the door then out they run. They are quickly back and stand by the cabinet door for their morning treats, dog biscuits, then out they go again. I shared my breakfast with them. Each got a spoonful of coffee and a piece of biscotti. They seem to be partial to the lemon biscotti.

Yesterday I was a woman of leisure. I finished one book and started another. Today I have a few things to do. I’m going to iron. Yup, I still have an iron, a steam iron. It was a house warming present in 1977. I can’t remember the last time I used it, but I need to iron some placemats which were washed and are quite wrinkled. Nala had stolen them from a basket and taken them to the backyard. Nothing is safe from Nala. I only wish she could iron. It would be a fitting punishment.

When I was a kid, my mother ironed all the time. The wringer was tough on clothes. I remember her sprinkling water on the clothes then folding them for a bit so they’d be damp. That made the ironing easier. She had a stand which could be folded and unfolded. It had a base and a rod. On the rod, she’d put the hangers with the newly ironed clothes on them. I once had a similar rod. I used to iron every week. I’d set up the ironing board and the rod in the den so I could watch TV. I used spray starch. I always thought the sleeves were the hardest parts to iron.

In Ghana, they still use charcoal irons. They are wedge shaped and made of cast iron. The top comes up so you can put in the charcoal. I was always glad I had someone to iron my clothes. I would have burned myself for sure.

My dogs have an apple basket filled with toys. Some are perfectly intact while others are missing parts. The worst are just empty shells of themselves. I’d stand on the deck and sometimes see the white stuffing sort of looking like snow and wonder which creature, which toy, had met its demise. Some I triage by sewing seams. Nala likes the rubber toys. I find them in the yard. One toy, once red, was Gracie’s favorite. It was in the yard a long while and lost its color, but Nala doesn’t mind. She carries it in her mouth and runs the yard. Better that toy than another possum or squirrel, toys to her and the prizes of keep away.

Today is yesterday, not a profound statement, just the weather report. The high will be in the 50’s and the low in the 40’s. The sun is bright, the sky is blue and a strong breeze is blowing. I have no plans for today so I’l be cozy on the couch reading my book and sharing space with the dogs.

Dinner was a huge success from the appies to dessert. I warmed the brie and served it with a caramelized onion jam and a fig and honey preserve. We also had some cheddar and different kinds of crackers. The fish chowder, course two, was delicious. The seafood casserole was so good my friends stopped talking so as not to interfere with their eating. The carrots I’ll make again and again. They were scrumptious. My friends cleaned up after dinner. I sat and supervised. I loved that they do that, and they always do.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember having worries. Life was easy. Every weekday was predictable. I got up, got dressed, ate breakfast and walked to school. My afternoons were free to do what I wanted. In the warmer weather I played outside. In the winter, I mostly stayed inside and read or watched TV. Saturdays were the most unpredictable except for Saturday mornings when I sat and watched all my favorite programs and ate cereal while sitting on the floor and for Saturday night dinners. During the rest of the day I did the matinee in winter or biked all over town. Sunday was always mass and family dinner.

My mother used to tell me not to frown. She said frowning caused worry lines. I used to check the mirror. I never saw any.

Today is Arbor Day. Elm trees were everywhere when I was kid. A chestnut tree was up the street, and I used to collect the chestnuts. Pear trees were in the yard in the house behind mine. We used to pick and eat them. I remember a lot of hard pears. Some crabapple trees weren’t too far from my house. We didn’t eat them but threw them at each other. They hurt when they connected. I love weeping willows. They are gracious trees. The most remarkable tree I have ever seen is the baobab. It grew in the region where I lived in Ghana and a huge one was in the middle of the school grounds. I saw my first palm tree in Ghana. I saw paw paw (papaya) trees and banana growing trees. Lining the road from my town were mahogany trees. I remember a tree with its gnarled branches growing in all directions and its roots above the soil looking like Medusa’s snakes.

My backyard has mostly scrub oak and scrub pine trees. They are ugly trees, but I have affection for them.