Today is chilly at only 48˚. It may rain later, but right now the sun is working its way out of the clouds. I can see some blue. Last night it rained starting after midnight. I fell asleep to the sounds of the drops hitting the roof, one of my favorite sounds. Both dogs, still wet from the rain, fell asleep quickly. Henry sleeps at the bottom of the bed. Nala sleeps right beside me on the other pillow. They are both more comfortable than I am.

Today is a quiet Easter. I have a special dinner, and I bought the dogs Easter bunny cookies with fake chocolate and white frosting. Henry licks his. Nala chomps. I’ll surprise them later.

I remember waking up on Easter morning and racing to see my basket. It was always one of those brightly colored baskets with green grass, plastic green grass. In the middle was the big rabbit. Its ears were solid but its body was hollow. I ate the ears first. Jelly Beans surrounded the rabbit. They were the big jelly beans without a whole of flavor, but I didn’t notice. I remember hard, colored candy eggs. They were white inside. There were Peeps, pink and yellow, small chocolate eggs and a few toys. I lugged that basket everywhere until only a few jelly beans were left hidden under the grass. They were the last of my Easter candy.

I remember one Easter egg hunt when I was young. It was in the field below my house, the field where I caught grasshoppers and lightening bugs. All the kids in the neighborhood went hunting. The eggs mostly had candy inside, but there was one special egg, a golden egg. I remember the year I found it. I held it above my head and announced my find. Inside was money, a $5.00 bill. I was rich beyond measure.

Every morning when I first wake up, I ask Alexa the time and weather. Today it was 9 when I asked. She told me to enjoy the sunny day. Hey Google told me it would be mostly cloudy but was sunny right now. Neither one is right. The sky is covered by clouds. It is windy and only 57˚. I am staying close to home today.

When I was a kid, Saturday was bath night. I think it was universally bath night. I took one alone as did my brother. My two sisters took one together. After their baths and shampoos, the torture began. My mother had to comb out the snarls. Both of my sisters cried. I was glad for short hair.

Yesterday was clean the yard day. I took my convict stick and poked all of the trash then put it in the bag. I got to see what Nala had stolen. Most of it was paper and cardboard from the recycle bin. Later she was outside an inordinate amount of time. I called her. She didn’t come. That made me suspicious. I know she can’t get out of the yard so I went to look for her. She was sitting just below the deck’s edge looking up at me. I thought she had one of her toys, one of the flat toys missing its insides. She didn’t. Nala had a dead squirrel. She grabbed it and ran thinking I’d chase her to get it. Nope. I learned when she had the possum not to bother chasing her.

My mother used to get our Easter clothes ready on Saturday. She’d snip the tags and lay out our new outfits. When I was young, my Easter outfit included a hat, white gloves and patent leather shoes. My sister gave me one of her Easter hats for my hat collection. It is white with a blue around the outside top of the brim and a blue bow around the head part in the center. It is exactly what an Easter hat should look like. My mother paired it with white gloves and a fluffy pastel dress. My sisters liked to swirl in their dresses.

Our Easter baskets ad all the traditional candy. A hollow rabbit was the centerpiece. We always ate the ears first. It was the unwritten rule. The jelly beans were big and mostly tasted the same. The Peeps were pink or yellow. Chocolate eggs were wrapped in colorful foil. Small toys were also in the basket and sometimes a stuffed rabbit or duck. I remember getting jacks and sometimes yo-yos.

Today I might do laundry. I even brought the basket down to this floor, only one more floor to go, but if past history is any indicator, the basket will sit there for a few days until I get tired of looking at it. That usually takes a while.

Today is a delight. The sun is bright, the air is still and the deep blue sky, unmarred by clouds, stretches across to meet the earth. Everything about the morning is inviting. We will be in the 60’s today. It is a spring day. More flowers have bloomed. White dafs, deep purple hyacinths and a little forsythia, only a couple of branches, have bloomed in the last couple of days. I love going outside each morning to see my garden, to see what surprises Mother Nature has unearthed.

Today is Good Friday. I used to have the day off when I was in elementary school, but there was a catch. I had to sign up to do vigil for an hour. I used to sneak in a book and hope the nun watching us was only looking for noise, not diversions. I figured hiding it in a prayer book and reading with my head down made me look devout. That hour was endless.

I was never much a counter of days except for the days until Christmas. Easter was never big. Summer vacation came with only a little fanfare. The last day of school was a half day, and we got our report cards. We all looked on the back to make sure we were promoted. We all were. Everyone was promoted. I wondered about that. I always figured we just dragged along some of my classmates who maybe should have stayed behind but somehow got caught in the swell of promotion.

Last night I watched The Beach Girls and the Monster. I had to look it up as I hadn’t ever heard of it. The movie was listed among the 100 most enjoyably bad movies ever made. The opening was a slew of dancing girls in bikinis. The theme, Dance Baby Dance, was written by Frank Sinatra Jr. The monster was silly looking with bulging eyes which never moved. The victims screamed but were never heard so the monster had its way and killed three people. The movie, though, did have one redeeming feature, amazing surfing footage. I watched the movie until the end. I needed to know the fate of the monster.

Of late, I have been a flurry of activity. I had a list. I cleared my bedroom of bins and boxes. I mailed Christmas presents which have been ready to mail since the holiday. My friends were excited, my sister not so much. After all, it is April. Maybe I should have wrapped them in pastels.

Yesterday was glorious. It was long sleeve shirt weather at over 60˚. I did some errands with the window down. The air smelled of flowers. They are blooming everywhere. Color has finally pushed winter away. The flag by my front steps says Welcome Spring.

Today is cloudy, and rain is predicted for this afternoon. The temperature will be around 60˚. I love that the low will be 45˚. Not so long ago I would have been happy for a high of 45˚.

When I was a kid, I loved spending time in my room on a rainy or chilly day. I’d get cozy and read the afternoon away. Back then we had classics to read. Robert Louis Stevenson was a favorite. I remember reading almost all of them. Where we vacationed in Maine one year, there was a sun room in the house where we were staying. It had windows all around, wicker furniture and a filled bookcase. That’s where I first read A Child’s Garden of Verses. I had found a treasure. The poems were happy. They were about me, about me being a kid. Sometimes I read the poems out loud. The rhyming was almost joyful. It was like skipping but in my mind. I was amazed that poetry could be such fun.

One summer my friend and I traveled. My favorite stop was Edinburgh. I walked the Royal Mile with my travel book in hand. We stopped at Deacon Brodie’s Tavern. Deacon Brodie was the inspiration for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I felt as if I was at a holy place.

I like windows. When I travel, I love looking out windows and imagining. At Dickens house, I remember stopping at a landing between two flights of stairs and looking out the window. I knew Dickens probably did the same. We were connected over time.

My favorite windows were at Machu Picchu. They had an odd shape, a trapezoidal shape, which I found out later was a typical Incan window. Looking out, I could see the odd shaped mountain across from Machu Picchu. I knew the views hadn’t changed since the Incas. We were connected over time.

From my back window I can see the yard. The trees have grown over the years. Some have died. One fell during the wind storm of not so long ago. It leans against the fence. I think of my yard as a measure of time. It and I have grown old together.

Last night it rained. The morning is cloudy and damp. More rain is expected. It could reach 60˚. Today’s low will be in the 40’s, the high temperature of not so long ago. Maybe spring is making its mark, defining the weather and pushing through the dampness, the browns and the grey. I do see more flowers every morning. It was two hyacinths today, both of them a deep rose. The mornings are noisy now, filled with the songs of birds. When I got the paper, I saw a cardinal couple probably looking for the perfect tree. The red was bright against the wild rose bush just beginning to get buds. There is just something so wonderful about the spring.

Yesterday I got bought a pineapple. It is still a bit unripe. When I was a kid, I never saw a pineapple outside of a can where it came in slices with a sugary syrup. In Ghana, a bowl of cut fruit was my lunch every day. I ate bananas, oranges, mangos, pineapples and pawpaw (papaya here) when it was in season. On the road, I often bought oranges. The aunties selling the fruit always cut off the top of the peel with a razor blade. I’d suck out all the juices then turn the orange inside out to eat the pulp. I remember those oranges were the sweetest I’d ever tasted. They were green. I often wondered why they were still called oranges.

The first time I saw a Guinea fowl I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t quite sure if it was beautiful or ugly. They have small heads and big bodies. Their feathers are spotted. My first thought was Guinea fowl are off-beat relatives of a chicken. I was wrong. They are singular birds, and they can really fly. They wandered all around the school compound eating bugs. They have a funny run and are quick, hard to catch. I never saw a baby Guinea fowl. Sometimes I bought Guinea eggs. They were hard to break.

Okra and garden eggs were two vegetables I hadn’t ever seen. I liked okra except it was slimy. I only had it in stews. Since then, I’ve found out to de-slime. Cooking them with tomatoes is an easy way. Garden eggs, nyadua in Twi, were white though some had green stripes. They were baby eggplants. I also ate them in stews. One of my friends grows them in her garden.

If I cooked a Ghanaian meal here, it would have kelewele, jollof rice, chicken, a light soup and a green sauce I never learned how to make. I’d eat dinner with my right hand, the Ghanaian way.

Today is a pretty day with a bright squint your eyes sun and the deepest blue, cloudless sky. It is chilly, only in the mid 40’s, but it will get warmer as the day settles. I’m going to water my plants, trash pick my yard and organize my closet. I can barely wait. The excitement is building.

I seldom plan a meal. I have plenty of groceries, but I don’t usually cook. In the mornings I have a couple of cups of coffee and sometimes a banana. The dogs wait impatiently for their teaspoon of coffee and a bit of my banana then they join me on the couch for their morning naps. Jack has breakfast then sleeps curled in a ball in his cat house. The cat house looks like a camping tent. My father used to say he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

In my town, when I was a kid, was a pet store right beside Santoro’s subs. I bought a chameleon there. When I got home, I put it in a small glass aquarium with leaves and sticks as cover. I used to sit and watch the chameleon change color from the brown of the branches and the green of the leaves. Even though I knew why, it was no less miraculous.

My favorite aunt lived about three blocks from my house. I often visited. She had Sam, my dog Duke’s son. It was my aunt who had given us Duke. I used to take a short cut home from her house. It meant climbing a chainlink fence. One time I was nearing the fence when I saw a half dollar on the path. I thought it was strange, even eerie. I had been wishing I had some money not long before I found it. I couldn’t imagine how a half dollar got to be on that overgrown path where I had to dodge bushes and weeds. I thought it had to be a miracle.

I was at a Christmas event where there were prizes. I was standing with a friend when I told her I was going to win the next prize. I had a weird feeling about it. The prize was a Christmas Buche d’ Noel. They called my name. My friend was a bit freaked.

I suppose I could say it was just serendipity, but how did I guess ahead of time the prize was mine and how was the half dollar right in front of me on that seldom used path just after I had thought about it. I didn’t have an answer back then, but I thought maybe there was a bit of of the divine about them. Now, I just chalk it up to karma. I wish it worked on guessing lottery numbers.

Mother Nature was a tease yesterday. The temperature got to 59˚. I wanted 60˚, a small hope, a single degree hope. I did get sun and some blue sky so I suppose I ought not to complain. I’ll have to remember that today as we will have the same weather as yesterday. Right now it is 47˚, spring morning cold. It will be in the mid 50’s later, shorts and tank top weather for sure.

When I was growing up, I was a busy kid. I was a Girl Scout. I started in the second grade as a brownie. We met every week. The best part was I could wear my brownie uniform to school. I had everything a brownie wore: the uniform, the beanie with the girl scout symbol in an orangey gold on the front and the change purse also with the brownie symbol. It hung from the belt. I was really proud when I wore my uniform. A few years later I flew up to girl scout. That’s what they call it, flying up. My uniform was a white blouse, a green skirt, a girl scout hat with the trefoil symbol on the front and a sash which became covered in badges. I was a Girl Scout for ten years. It was a big ceremony when some of us got our ten year pins. Both my parents were there.

I joined St. Patrick’s drill team when I was ten. We had practice every Saturday at the armory where we learned the basics of marching. I had fun though sometimes we weren’t supposed to. At one point our instructor, John Kelly, told us we were ready to join the senior drill team. We had practice once a week in winter and twice a week in summer, sometimes even Sunday mornings before a competition. We had competition all summer, some Friday nights but mostly Sunday afternoons. It was huge commitment, but I loved being part of the drill team and still have friends dating from those long ago days.

I had other loves as I grew older. I loved acting, and we did one act plays at my school. We even competed. Though we never won anything, I did get a jar with a preserved embryo of a pig, a gift from a science teacher.

I’ve been the president of the library board. That lasted years. I took tap dancing lessons. I knew all the steps but that barely translated from my head to my feet. Now I’m still learning the uke which I love playing. I have little or no musical ability. I know all the chords now, but my head doesn’t always translate well to my fingers. Today I have another concert.

When I woke up this morning, the blue had only a small piece of the sky. Clouds covered the rest. The forecast is for clouds and a high of 55˚, but that little glimpse of blue made me hopeful. The sun popped out for a bit then disappeared only to reappear a little while later. I hope the sun wins despite the forecast.

My memory drawers are overflowing. I make new memories all the time while the old memories are still there vying for space. I can recall exact moments. If I close my eyes, I can see those moments as if they are newsreels of my life.

My mother told me about an encounter when I was about three. We were on the elevator in the Sears building near Kenmore when a Black lady entered. That was the first time I ever saw a Black person. I asked my mother what was wrong with her. The woman started a tirade and called us racists and other choice names all peppered with swears. I didn’t remember the encounter, but my mother told me we, the three of us, were the only people on the elevator. She said I was scared and so was she. The woman kept screaming at me and my mother. When the elevator stopped so people could get on, my mother hustled me off so quickly I almost couldn’t keep up. We left the building.

I do remember one encounter. My uncle, only a couple of years older than I, and my brother were at the subway station waiting for the train. We were going to the pool near Storrow Drive. My brother and uncle were a bit away from me on the platform. A man approached me. I remember he had rotten teeth and a straw hat. He asked me if I wanted gum. I said yes so he told me to go with him, and he’d give me my gum. All those warnings my mother used to give jumped into my head, and I bolted away from him. When I told my uncle, he didn’t believe me. I never told my mother.

Last night the wind was the proverbial freight train. The rain was blown sideways and was hitting my bedroom window, but the best had yet to come. I don’t know what time it was, but I woke up to a rumbling of thunder. Shortly after, the biggest clap of thunder I have ever heard broke over my house. The dogs and I sat up. Henry, who hasn’t ever minded thunder, shook. Nala looked up at the ceiling. Henry was going to jump off the bed, probably to go hide, but I stopped him and hugged him while I patted Nala. It took a little time, but we they settled dow and we all fell back to sleep.

Today will be in the high 50’s with drizzle. The wind is slight. The sky is a light grey.

Spring has come to Cape Cod. The gardens are filled with color. My forsythia has bloomed. My hyacinths are open. They are purple and mauve. My day lilies are all above ground. The other day, while I was out and about, I saw a yard filled with dafs. I stopped to look drawn by the field of yellow. It was eye popping.

When I was a kid, I pushed spring. I wanted out of winter and heavy winter clothes. I had a spring jacket I loved. It was blue and had a zipper. It also had no lining. I used to beg my mother to let me wear it. I wore her down, but she was right. In early spring it was still cold. On the walk to school it was really cold just wearing that jacket, but I would never admit it to my mother even if I had icicles hanging from my nose.

I bought some Peeps yesterday, yellow and pink Peeps. When I got home, I opened the packages and put them high up on my kitchen bookcase, higher than Nala can reach. I won’t eat them until they are rock hard, the only way I like them. I’ve told you before I know, but I’m going tell you again the history of hard Peeps. When I was in Ghana, my mother sent me packages for most holidays. Food and treats were the most welcome parts of those packages. She’d send kits like for Mac and Cheese and pasta with Alfredo. They were my Sunday dinners. She send candy which didn’t melt, including the Peeps. Packages took at least a couple of months as they came by sea so by the time they got to me, the Peeps were rock hard despite still being in their packages. Since then, I wait, impatiently, for the Peeps to get hard. Quite chewy is the best description.

Today baseball begins for my Red Sox. They are playing the Yankees at Yankee Stadium. I’m going to tape the game as it is a ukulele day.

Today is warm at 54˚. Despite the clouds, rain is not predicted until tomorrow. Everything is still. Everything is quiet. I have a couple of things to do today and a couple of stops to make. I’m taking Nala. She loves the car, Henry not so much.

I went out yesterday and was gone a little over three hours. Miss Nala got bored. I found the remnants of a pencil and a pen. She loved the pencil more and chewed it into four or five pieces. Later, I caught her trying to steal a pillow from the den. She was thwarted.

When I was a kid, I never ate Jello. To me, its consistency was gross, and I was never charmed by the jiggling. I preferred chocolate pudding. I still do.

My favorite potatoes are mashed, but I’ll eat almost any potato dish including sweet potatoes. Those usually get baked. I have a couple I’m thinking of baking for tonight. They are my only menu item for dinner so far.

My mother used to make the most delicious fish casserole. It had a white fish of sorts and some shrimp. The top was Ritz, buttered Ritz. I can’t remember the last time I made it. I’m thinking it’s pass time.

Lately I have been binge watching movies. Everyone has been in black and white and most are science fiction. Right now I’m watching It came from Hell, a 1957 movie. The antagonist is a tree monster. The setting is a tiny atoll. A native prince was accused of killing his father. He was innocent but was found guilty. He was executed when a knife was driven into his heart. He was buried upright in a hollow tree trunk. Years earlier, according to legend, an island chief returned from the dead in the form of a vengeful tree monster called Tabanga. The legend, come to find out, was a true story. The prince morphed into a tree monster who walked and killed those who had wronged him, including his wife. The tree had feet instead of roots. The feet wore shoes.

My house is quiet. The dogs are asleep on the couch. Nala is using Henry as a pillow. Jack too is quiet. I greeted him this morning. He meowed.