The morning is downright cold. It is only 30˚. The high will be 37˚. That sounds like deck weather. As if…

We have a pretty day with lots of bright sun, just not a warm sun. The air is clear. Everything looks highlighted by the sun. I can see through the tangle of pine branches in the back yard to the blue sky beyond. The dogs have been out a while. They enjoy this weather.

When I was a kid, we all gave up something for Lent. Most of us kids chose chocolate having very little else to give up. I rarely made it all through Lent. When I was contemplating eating the forbidden chocolate, I negotiated with myself to lessen the guilt. It helped.

I loved walking to school in the mornings this time of year. The cold felt temporary. My footsteps echoed in the still mornings. My friend and I chatted the whole way. It wasn’t a long walk to school: down the hill, around the corner to the straightaway which ended at the stop sign just on the corner down from school. We looked down both sides then crossed the street. The playground was behind the school. That’s where we waited for the nun to ring the bell, the time to line-up bell.

My school was old. It had no electric bells. It had bellringers. They were in the eighth grade on the top floor. They rang the bell in the hall so all the floors could hear it. I remember my first grade class, what it looked like, where I sat. It was on the first floor. I remember my second grade teacher, Mrs. Kerrigan. She was old or at least she looked old to me. She had grey hair and dressed like my grandmother. She lived in an apartment in an old house across from the church. My third grade class was in the cellar of the rectory. We didn’t have desks. We had tables. By fourth grade, we were in double sessions. The school was overloaded with kids. There were no places to put us so they started building the new school, which was all we called it even after it was old. For the fifth grade, while we waited for the new school, we were bussed to a school a town over as they had space. I never minded the buses. We were patient. The bus rides meant less time in the classroom. Nobody complained. By mid-winter, the new school was ready. We moved in. My class was on the first floor near the door. The school was shiny. It had electric bells.

The morning has started late for me. I let the dogs out early then I went back to bed. The dogs joined me. The one ring of the front doorbell woke us all up. It was my neighbor, and he was quite patient while I shooed Henry a couple of times then I opened the door. My neighbor had my overflowing mail from yesterday and today’s newspaper. I thanked him for his kindness. He always calls me Miss Kat.

The day is cloudy grey but warm without the wind. Today’s forecast calls for rain and snow with a high of 53˚ and a low of 22˚. The craziness of March weather continues. (It started pouring then it stopped.)

When I was a kid, a rainy, ugly Saturday meant being stuck in the house, my bike parked in the cellar. Sometimes I’d read in bed. It was quiet in my room. The only sounds were the rain drops against the window at the foot of my bed. Other Saturdays I’d watch the old science fiction movies from the 50’s. I still love those movies. The other day I watched Attack of the Crab Monsters. It was so wonderfully awful I bought it and two more Roger Corman’s for cheap money on E-Bay. I’m thinking a grand return, a red carpet event, to movies on the deck.

When I visited them for the weekend, Saturday nights at my parents’ house were always fun nights. My Uncle Jack always came. The kitchen was the center of activity. My mother served appies and had snacks like chips on the table. The small side of the counter was the bar. The card game was usually Hi-Lo Jack. At my parents’ table it got cutthroat. Sometimes there was music with the whole kitchen crowd singing. My uncle sang Bing Crosby songs. He always fancied himself a bit of a Bing. We all did too.

Tomorrow is a uke concert at the mall for St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll be bedecked and adorned in lots of green and shamrocks. I’ll be the one in the blinking green glasses and the shamrock fascinator.

Today is a delight. The sun is alone in the deep blue sky. It is 46˚, warm in these parts for March. The low, tonight, will be in the 30’s. That’s the spring pattern: warm days and cold nights.

The days are getting noticeably longer. The sun hangs around. This weekend we change the clocks. We spring ahead to an an even longer day.

Even as a kid, I loved this time of year. Unless the cold kept us in the house, we got to play outside longer after school. We lived on a tiny rotary, a circle of four houses. There were two street lights, hooded street lights, our alarm clocks of a sort. One light, my light, was right outside the house. When it turned on, almost magically, it announced the end of the day. On the poster of the film War of the Worlds, the original, is an alien ship knocking over a light pole exactly like my light pole. That always tickled my imagination.

Now, as the day turns from light to dark, there is an in-between, an almost night. I look outside, and the sun is gone, but I can still the outlines of objects and can guess what they are. There is a hole in the darkness letting in the light.

It was never dark in Ghana. The night sky, a blanket of stars, was so bright you could almost read by it. Every night had a falling star.

Night on a beach is filled with light. I can follow the sky to where it ends. I can see the stars from top to bottom. On a clear, easy night, the air is filled with the sounds of the waves gently finding the sand. It brings its own calmness. Occasionally I can hear the song of night birds.

I love my my deck at night. I can sit outside comfortable in the darkness. The peepers from the pond at the end of my street are loud. There are night birds. Henry barks at the sounds of likely intruders in cars or walking by the house. I shush him, but he still barks for a little longer before he finally ignores the sounds and settles down. Nala just quietly watches. We stay out late into the night, the three of us.

March is a quirky month. It waffles between winter and early spring. Yesterday was an all weather day. The rain started gently, sort of a spring rain, then it poured but only for a few minutes. The snow, big fluffy, wet flakes, fell next but didn’t stay. The sleet was last. Luckily, last night was above freezing, no ice on the steps or ruts in the road. Today is in the 40’s and is still cloudy. The wind has finally gone.

On my dance card today is the dentist. All of me is old, even the fillings, so I’m having one drilled out and replaced. I go to the dentist to avoid the dentist.

Before I went to Ghana, Peace Corps told us to have any tooth issues solved. I found a dentist in Lawrence. My father had the bills sent to him. I think I went three times and had even the hint of a cavity drilled and filled. During staging in Philadelphia we had to find our way to the dentist to have our teeth checked. Mine passed.

When I was a kid and went to the dentist, he always gave me this red pill to eat then he’d check my mouth. The red stuff ratted me out. It showed where I wasn’t brushing enough. I’d then get a lesson on how to brush my teeth. I always got a lesson.

My backyard has branches, some of them large, strewn about the ground having been broken by the wind. It has trash from Nala. Her recent booty was a bag of flour. I found her with it and put it in the barrel. She found it again and made a big pile of flour in the yard. Henry was licking it. Henry was again guilty after the fact, abetting again. I couldn’t pick the flour up so I covered it with part of the bird bath.

My days are comfortable and easy. A cleaning lady comes every two weeks though I do a few cleaning jobs in between. I do the laundry when the basket is overflowing. I have groceries delivered. I eat when I’m hungry. I eat breakfast at dinner or leftovers at breakfast. I wear my cozies all day. I’m enjoying life.

Today is chilly because of the wind. I can see the oak branch over the deck keeping its own beat by rhythmically swaying back and forth. The tops of the pine trees bend first to one side then to the other. Through the trees, I can see a deep blue sky without a single cloud. It is a beautiful day.

Last night Nala and Henry had a bad night. He snapped at her twice and scared her. I hugged her and she settled down. I then noticed Henry was drooling and knew he wasn’t feeling good so he was a bit testy. I just didn’t know why. I found out later he was guilty after the fact. My cleaning lady did not shut the gate to Jack’s room. Nala went in and stole his food. She must have thought she was in a foody heaven on Earth. One stolen food item was a large container of Temptations, Jack’s favorite snack. I found the empty in the yard. I had seen Henry eating something, but it was gone by the time I got to the yard so I had no idea what he was munching. Last night Nala tossed her cookies, or rather Jack’s, on my bed. I told both dogs I had no sympathy, but they ignored me. Today they are back to normal. Nala stole cardboard. I watched her wrestle it through the dog door.

When I was in the seventh grade, I played CYO basketball. I wanted to be able to use one of the hoops in the schoolyard during recess so I asked. I was turned down. My teacher told me it was unseemly for girls in skirts to be jumping around the yard. I asked her why. She told me girls have a special responsibility to prepare for womanhood. That was her answer. I pressed once more and was again told no.

When I was a freshman in college, women had to wear skirts. We’re talking the mid to late 60’s. The winter of my sophomore year was brutally cold so the powers that be allowed women to wear pants. Skirts were gone for good. We had moved beyond the Victorian Age.

When I was twenty-one, I accepted a Peace Corps invitation to Ghana knowing little about that country beyond what the Atlas told me. We had nearly three months of training all over the country. It was during that training I realized I could do almost anything. I was living thousands of miles away from home. I was with other trainees I had just met who would become dear friends. I was eating strange foods with strange names. I was learning my way around Ghana, and I was learning a new language, Hausa. I was so immersed in all of Ghana I didn’t realize how important all these experiences were in making me a stronger, more confident woman, traits I have carried with me all of my life. I give thanks almost every day for having the courage, at twenty-one, to accept an invitation to serve in Ghana, to live in Africa.

Today is International Women’s Day which celebrates the global, social, economic, cultural and political achievements of women. Wear purple.

The morning is cloudy but warm, near tropical for this time of year, 55˚. I stood outside enjoying the warmth for a few minutes when I went to get the paper. I noticed the green shoots of the dafs in my front garden are even higher than just the other day. Spring is gently pushing its way through winter.

The big news is I did my laundry, two loads of clothes and one load of blankets. All the clothes have already been put away. I felt accomplished.

I am in my element. I’m watching Earth vs. The Spider, a black and white movie from 1958. The girls all wear puffy dresses. Mothers wear aprons in the house. A teen couple are the stars. Her father was the first victim. My favorite scene so far is when the girl is lying on the couch crying and mourning her father. Her mother tells her, “Forget about it dear. You have homework for tomorrow.” Comforting words to a girl whose father had been sucked to bones. The spider is currently on a rampage.

When I was a kid, my first records were red and yellow and had songs like Farmer in the Dell and singers like Gene Autry. The records were 78-rpm, the ones with the small holes. I had a record player I had gotten for Christmas one year. With it came some Christmas records. I still have many of them. The Caroleers were big as were the Sandpipers. Bing got into the act with a song called How Lovely Is Christmas. I haven’t played these songs in a long time. They were in my room, forgotten. I found them again yesterday.

When I was older, I bought 45’s. One side was the A side, the side with the hit. The other side, the B side, sometimes had a great but seldom played song. I still have many of those stored in a cylindrical container called Disk-Go-Case. It looks space age. I still remember many of the songs but some are strange choices for me. I have to think that maybe they were gifts. Conway Twitty, Laurie London, an unknown singer to me, and The New Happiness are a few of them. Some records are by familiar singers like The Village Stompers and The Big Bopper. I have one of my all-time favorite songs, Scotch and Soda by The Kingston Trio. I spent a lot of quarters playing that song on the jukebox in the school canteen.

I’m going to listen to a few of these records today. I have a couple of those discs you put in the holes of the 45’s so they can be played. It will be a trip back in time.

The sky is covered in whitish gray clouds. It rained during the night and will continue raining on and off all day. The breeze is chilly, but the air is warm, 50˚. There is a fog warning. I need go to the dump today so I’ll go in between rain drops.

When spring is poking its head through winter, mornings are my favorite time of the day. The birds are back and singing to greet first light. A warmth breaks through the cold. Everything feels lighter. The air smells fresh. This morning I saw the first green shoots of the dafs in my garden. I did a happy dance.

I buy flowers when I go shopping. I put them in every room. Tulips and dafs make me smile. They bring color. They bring spring even on the coldest days.

The dogs are out a long time in this weather, even when there are no possums. Nala keeps busy with the stuff she steals. Yesterday she stole a stick of butter I thought was safe. It was far back on the counter. Later, she brought in a dog food can from the yard, a can she’d stolen earlier. I hope that’s a trend: Nala cleaning her own mess.

Last night, I put one of the cat’s food dishes near the gate so I’d remember to take it downstairs to wash. I was playing with Jack when I heard a sound I didn’t recognize. I looked and saw Nala had her head through the hole in the gate and was licking the dish which was clattering against the floor. I moved the dish, the path of least resistance.

I loved my mother’s brownies. She didn’t use a mix. She baked them in a square metal pan. When they were cool enough, she’d frost them with chocolate frosting then sprinkle the top with jimmies. It was a chocolate overload for which I gave great thanks.

My overloaded laundry basket still sits next to the cellar door, and I’m finally tired of seeing it so I’ll haul it downstairs to wash. Nala follows me to the cellar. It is a new space for her to explore. That worries me.

Fair Warning! The faint of heart and weak of stomach should not continue reading.

Yesterday, Nala was out a long while. I assumed she was playing with her dead possum, but I decided to to check on her but then I heard her come inside. I got up to pat the lovely Miss Nala. The dead possum was on the hall floor beside the dogs’ toy box. I made sounds of disgust, eww, eww, eww over and over. My face reflected the sound. I had to keep Nala away while I figured out how to get the possum out of the house. I grabbed a brown bag and a plastic bag. I used the plastic to push the possum into the brown bag. Nala wanted the bag so I held it high as I carried it outside. That totally grossed me out, and I eww’ed to the front door. Nala was right beside me. I took the bag outside to the front yard where Nala never goes. I went to toss the possum, but it fell out of the bag and slid down the small hill beside my house. I left it there in quiet repose. I’ll move it away from the house later.

Today will stay partly cloudy with a high of 39˚. The morning air is filled with the songs of birds, a welcome sign spring is coming. When the wind blows, I can hear the sweet sounds of the chimes hanging from a tree in the backyard. The morning is a delight for eyes and ears.

I went outside with Nala, the consummate thief, and saved some of the things she has stolen and picked up a handful of her trash. I’ll make another run on the trash later.

The dogs stay out a long time. Nala looks for trouble. Henry wanders the yard and sniffs the ground. Henry no longer whacks the dog door for me to come and let him in. He comes in on his own every time. In regard to the dog door, and only the dog door, Nala has been a good influence.

I have a chore list with only a couple of items. Any more, and I’d set myself up to fail. The kitchen floor, which I think is still there under the dog paw prints, needs to be washed. It is atop the list. My bed too is on that list but with parenthesis around it, a notation that means maybe. I have been dusting with my sweatshirt sleeve. It works the best.

I’m going out today. I’ll have to shield my eyes from the light. Other than the quick possum fiasco, I have been inside a long time.

The cold is still here. It is only 26˚. Again, the view from my window belies the temperature. The sun is squint your eyes bright. The sky is blue and cloudless. The day has nary a breeze. The dogs love this weather. They are out for the longest time, even Henry the sloth. As for the disposition of the possum, it will leave my yard today. Nala won’t care. She has lost interest.

When I was a kid, I never saw much wildlife. There were spawns of Satan everywhere. Once in a while a skunk waddled by. We ran in the other direction. I remember on a family Sunday drive to nowhere we all yelled when we saw deer in a field. My father stopped the car so we could watch. Even grazing cows rated a yelp. I remember hawks on the hunt riding the thermals and whirling in the sky.

Here on the cape, wild life abounds. Coyotes are common as are wild turkeys. I have seen as many as twelve or more in a single raptor. They wander up my street noshing as they go. One night a deer stopped in the road in front of me when it saw my car. I slammed on my brakes and slid a bit sideways to avoid hitting it. I saw the scared look of a deer in the headlights. I suspect the deer saw the same look on face. Foxes too are common. They trot along the sides of the roads. I saw a hawk dine on a spawn it had caught. That hawk was right out the window of the cafeteria during lunch. The kids didn’t care. They watched while they ate lunch.

My favorite sighting was in Ghana. I was riding my moto, as they call it in Ghana, on a bush dirt road on the way to visit a friend. The road was remote and only led to her village. A car driven by a white person stopped by my moto to ask if I was lost as that road didn’t get much traffic. Anyway, a bit further on, I could see what looked like hairy men on one side of the road. I stopped and watched. They were baboons, about five of them. One stopped in the middle of the road to look at me. I stood statue still. It decided I was no threat and took off with its gorilla pals. I breathed the biggest sigh of relief.

Looking out my den window, I can see a windy, sunny day with a cloud pocked sky. It is lovely day if you stay inside the house. It is cold, only 38˚, and the wind makes it feel even colder. We had rain last night so everything is still wet.

I did a couple of errands yesterday and took Nala with me. She likes the car. I wish Henry did.

My bedtime is late or early depending on your viewpoint. Last night, or this morning, it was three AM. The dogs joined me. Nala woke me up at 8:30. I tried to stay in bed, but she would have none of it and whacked me a few times then she cried and cried. I figured she needed to go out so I got up. Now, the dogs are napping, and I am jealous.

Tuesday I lived a nightmare. I put the dogs out before we went to bed. Nala was out for the longest time so I went looking for her. My head said she can’t get out, but Gracie did by hopping the six foot fence so I was worried. I looked over the back rail of the deck and saw her. Nala had something in her mouth. I went into the yard. Nala had a dead possum, a frozen dead possum, in her mouth. I wondered how the possum died. I knew it wasn’t Nala. It was a found treasure. I chased that dog, and every time I got close to her Nala ran with the possum. I threw a can close to her. She was surprised, jumped into the air and dropped the possum, but she picked it up again when I got really close. I tripped over a root and fell on my butt. The back of my pants got soak, but I got up and tried again. Nala ran again. I decided I was too cold and I was too wet so I gave up the chase and went inside. Nala came in on her own, possum less.

Yesterday morning I looked over the yard and couldn’t see the possum so I let Nala out. She found the possum. I didn’t chase her. She came back inside without the possum. This morning I looked, and the poor possum is still in the yard and needs to be buried, but I haven’t a shovel. I think a huge spoon will take a while to dig a big enough hole. It’s on my to-do list.