Today is spring. It is sunny and warm and may reach 60˚. The sky is a darker blue than yesterday’s. The air is still. It is a quiet morning. I watched the birds at the feeders this morning from the kitchen window. The first in were the goldfinches, males with their bright yellow chests. They settled on sunflower seeds. The chickadees arrived next and chose the mixed seed feeder. They zoomed in, grabbed a seed and zoomed out to a nearby branch to dine. My to-do list includes outside tasks. I want sun and warmth.

Last night, around eleven, Henry went out. I followed him and stood on the deck for a while. All of a sudden, I heard turkey gobbles, loud gobbles from more than one turkey. The sound came from the direction of the road. I could hear the turkeys were moving away, up the street, as their gobbles got fainter. Lots of turkeys roam the neighborhood. There is a small pond beyond the end of the street. The turkeys usually roost at night on tree branches around the pond. I guess they were enjoying an evening constitutional.

I strung the outside lights yesterday. This strand is longer than the last three victims of the spawns. Henry didn’t need the backdoor light to go out. The strand of white lights goes all the way down the banister and across one side of the big gate on the driveway.

When I was a kid, our plates were melmac. That insured that dropped plates would clatter, not break, when they hit the floor. We also had a set of indestructible aluminum glasses with a matching pitcher. We had a few glass glasses which once held jelly and some other glasses which held shrimp in cocktail sauce. They hit the floor hard. On one visit my mother brought me a couple of jelly glasses. She brought me memories. I am quite careful with those glasses. My tile floor is unyielding.

I have a small garden below the deck. Last year I planted strawberry plants. They have multiplied. One clump is tall and thick. Last year I did get a few berries or rather the birds or the spawns got a few berries. This year, when I see blossoms, I’m going to cover the plants in cheesecloth. I’m hoping they’ll be enough for a couple of strawberry shortcakes. I make cream of tartar biscuits instead of sponge cake. They were my father’s favorites, and they were what my mother always made. I think of them as family tradition.

The morning is beautiful. The sun is so bright I had to shade my eyes when I went to get the papers. The sky is the deepest blue and goes on forever, unmarred by a single cloud. There is not even a wisp of wind. I filled the bird feeders. When I was outside, the only sounds were bird songs. It is a bit chilly but warmer than yesterday. The temperature is already 49˚ and will get as high as 55˚. I’m staying home today.

Last night was fun. I actually ate dinner with friends who always cook my favorites. Dinner was sausage and plantain, the sweetest plantain. There was also salad and rice, but they are humdrum, and I mention them only in passing. My friend has a raised bed garden. Okra is one of her crops. I mentioned garden eggs, and she went hunting for information. She has decided to plant some. I remember okra and garden egg stews in Ghana, the first time I saw either vegetable. I mentioned to my friends that eating okra stew with your hands is a bit slimy. They couldn’t believe I used my hand as an eating utensil. Even now, if I eat Ghanaian stews, I use my hand. It just seems right.

When I was a kid, I loved Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. I’d crush Saltines with my hands and put the crumbs and pieces into the bowl of soup. The Saltines sat on the top of the soup and absorbed most of the liquid. That’s the way I liked it. The noodles and meat stayed on the bottom of the bowl and were easy to snag. I remember sucking in the noodles and having a few drops hit in the face. My other favorite soup was tomato. I never used Saltines in that soup, but I did dip in my grilled cheese sandwiches.

When I left for the Peace Corps, it was on a Sunday. I was flying from Logan to Philadelphia. Both my parents came with me to the airport and, in those days, they could walk me to the gate. We didn’t talk a whole lot. They were dealing with my leaving for 2+ years, and I was dealing with the same thing in a different way. I was both nervous and excited. I still remember our goodbyes. My mother held on a bit too long, but I was okay with that. My father gave me a quick hug and a kiss on my cheek. They told me to call from Philadelphia. I cried a bit, quietly, as I walked down the gateway to my plane.

When I spoke to my sister in Colorado this morning she said it was snowing and adding inches to the snow already on the ground. Happy spring!

The sun was out when I woke up but has since disappeared. The sky is cloudy but no rain is predicted. It is cold and will stay cold all day. I am going out later to visit friends giving me a new record, four days out in a single week.

My bird feeders need filling. This morning a bright red cardinal, a bright yellow goldfinch and my favorite little chickadees were at the feeder eating the last few sunflower seeds.

I can’t find Henry’s halter, his harness. It has been on the floor so he’ll get familiar with it and not go crazy when I put it on him. I have looked all over downstairs. Its disappearance is driving me crazy.

This morning I watched a YouTube video filmed in Ghana. An American was visiting for the first time and was touring Makola Market. He mispronounced Accra and says Ghanians. The Ghanaian with him was far too polite to correct him. I screamed at the TV a few times. I wished it was two way.

I keep losing track of which day of the week it is. All my days are so similar I sometimes have to check the masthead of the paper.

When I was a kid, I got a Cinderella watch for my first communion. I was seven. My aunt had taught me to tell time, and she was the giver of my wonderful gift. I remember Cinderella wore a blue gown and was the background of the watch face. The strap too was blue, a light blue. I used to look at my watch with a flourish so everyone would see Cinderella on my wrist.

I still prefer an analog watch. I have a few of them, all of which need batteries. My favorite was a 50th birthday present from my mother. The watch has a red leather strap and silver around the face. The only time I wear a watch is when I travel, when time sometimes matters, but I never wear that watch; instead, I wear my least expensive time piece in case I lose it or break it or have it stolen. I wear my Timex with gold numbers. It is at least thirty years old.

When I was in Uruguay, I got on an elevator at my hotel which already had a male passenger. I was wearing my watch. He pointed first at my wrist then at my pocket. He wanted me to put my watch away. I remember before I left for my trip my father kept trying to get me to stay home. He told me South America was too dangerous. He said he knew a woman who knew a different woman who had been there. Her arm, the second woman’s, was dangling out a window when all of a sudden a thief grabbed her hand and cut off her finger to get her ring. To say I was skeptical was an understatement. I came home with my watch and an intact arm.

Last night it poured. Poor Henry stuck his nose out the door then backed into the kitchen. I wish I had his bladder. He lasted until 10 this morning. The sky is covered in clouds but the clouds are light, almost white. Rain is predicted for today but not yet. It will be in the high 40’s. I have no errands. I will stay home in my cozies. I have books and plenty of food though none of it is sweet. That’s a drawback.

Yesterday I bought another set of lights for the spawns to chew. It is needed on the back stairs because it is so dark at night Henry won’t go out unless I turn on the back light. Such a brave boy! This morning he actually came in the dog door because he thought Jack was getting a treat.

When I was a kid, our house wasn’t very big. It was one side of a duplex which was a mirror image of our side. The kitchen was small. There were three bedrooms upstairs. The cellar was huge. One side of it had a sink where the washing machine, a wringer, was connected. The other side had the oil tank but still had plenty of room. I used to ride my bike around the cellar. It did get tricky crossing the bottom the stairs but that didn’t matter. I rode it anyway. The road where I lived ended at a cut de sac. We used to roller skate on the sidewalk. I remember the skate wheels made noise on what we always called the hot top. The faster I went, the louder the noise.

I remember the Bal-A-Roue skating rink in Medford. My friends and I used to go on a Friday or a Saturday night. The roller skates had high sides and a lot of laces. The girl rented white skates, the boys black. The rink was long and was wooden. It was more of an oblong than a circle. Music played while we skated. I was better on ice skates. The wheels of the roller skates seem to take off on their own. One way to stop was to hope to grab the sides, but mostly I fell which stopped all forward progression. I’d grab the side to pull myself off the floor or a friend would skate by and give me a hand. By the end of the evening, my pants were filthy from contact with the floor. I remember watching in awe skaters who could do spins usually in the middle of the floor as most of us kept to the side, the safer place. I also remember couples who danced together as they skated, their feet in perfect rhythm. I never aspired to spin or dance. I spent all my energy and concentration trying to stay off the floor. I wasn’t very successful.

The other day I was wrong about the weather. It did get sunny and warm. Today, though, the weather report is clouds all day and a high of 50˚. The rain is due tomorrow.

When I look out my window to the backyard, all I can see are bare branches still waiting for buds. The backyard is stuck in winter drab. When I go to the car, I can see the front garden in all its glory, a glory of colors. I can see purples, mauves and pinks. I see the yellow of daffodils and the bright yellow forsythia buds almost ready to bloom. I see spring.

I don’t remember seeing spring flowers when I was a kid. I remember buds on trees and bright green leaves. I also remember arguing with my mother that a spring jacket was plenty warm enough. Winter layers were coming off a layer at a time but not fast enough for me. I was willing to feel a bit cold on my walk to school. Even if my lips had turned blue, I’d tell my mother it was warm enough for my spring jacket.

Henry and Jack are beside me on the couch. This is Henry’s quiet time. Jack has several quiet times. He moves from the couch cushion to the chair to the table or to the top of the couch where I keep an afghan just for him. Jack can sleep anywhere. This morning I greeted Gwen, patted her and and gave her some treats. I’m going to change the litter as I’m going to the dump when I finish here. Look how much I have to look forward to later today. This will be my third day out this week tying my record of a couple of weeks ago.

Yesterday I fed my body and soul. I went to the used book store, Parnassus, and to Nancy’s Candies. I bought Easter candy at half price at Nancy’s and two books, one a cookbook of food from Bali and the other a Clive Cussler, at Parnassus. When I got home, I opened the Peeps so they can get stale, and I settled on the couch where I read the cookbook and ate half a chocolate rabbit, ears first. When I was a kid, there is no way any bit of a chocolate rabbit would have been saved for later. Yesterday afternoon, the adult in me held sway.

The morning is ugly. The wind is so strong the pine tree tops are swaying back and forth. The sky is covered in thick clouds which offer little hope for a sunny afternoon. The day is damp making it feel colder than it is. Right now it is 49˚. A few months ago I would loved a temperature in the 40’s but this is spring. Come on, Mother Nature. You can do better.

My plans for today are simple. I need to dust and vacuum downstairs. Yesterday I bought a couple of succulents at CVS for half-price, and they need repotting. I may need to nap.

Henry saw his vet yesterday, his behavior modification vet. She thinks he is doing well but also thinks he may need a trainer to stop his crazed barking at the door. Some of what she suggested for his other behaviors I have been doing already. I had put his halter on the floor to decrease his fear, and she suggested I do the same with his leash but add a biscuit so he’ll associate the two, the leash and the cookie. She suggested I put opaque window film on the three door windows to prevent Henry from standing on the stairs and barking at what he can see. She also suggested I help Henry associate the sound of a car/truck approaching with the immediate delivery of a treat. The only drawback is Henry already sees everything as treat worthy.

When I was a kid, we used to have pajama parties. Now they’re called asleep-overs, but I think pajama party is a better description. We never slept until the very wee hours. We ate junk food and drank tonic (the Massachusetts word for pop, for soda pop). We slept on the floor using the pillows and blankets we’d bought. I remember being at Kathleen Donovan’s for a birthday pajama party. Her house was three houses down from my school. We stayed in the living room. The furniture had been moved to the side so we camped in the middle. I also remember her mother telling us it was time for lights out.

We always had supper. The only time we had dinner was on Sunday afternoons. Dinners were more formal. We ate at the table together. My mother served a roast of some sort, the big difference between dinner and supper. We always had potatoes and a veggie or two. We never had bread on the table the way they did in Leave It to Beaver. We also didn’t have to ask to be excused. We bolted when our plates were cleared of food. We ate a lot of hamburger. My favorite was American chop suey. The name is confusing as it has no resemblance to Chinese chop suey and is actually more like Italian food with pasta and ground beef. My mother did make a Chinese chop suey of sorts. I remember watching her make it in the electric fry pan. It had pea pods, bean sprouts and water chestnuts. I put La Choy Chow Mein Noodles on the top. I loved the crunch. I also put the noodles in the middle. I did say I loved the crunch.

Now, I’m craving Chinese food. I’ll order it for this afternoon. Would that be a late lunch or an early dinner?

This morning is chilly and damp. It rained during the night. Today’s temperature will stay in the 40’s. Henry has his appointment today at 12:30. He’ll be scared after the car ride. I worry. Poor Henry.

Yesterday I decided not to notice the dust. That was more difficult than it sounds. You’d have thought the clumps of fur on the hall floor were flying tumbleweeds. Most of the fur is white, short white, Henry fur. The guest room is the home of Miss Gwen. When I go upstairs, I find clumps of long black hair, cat hair, on the hall rug and in the bathroom. Gwen roams upstairs. She never comes all the way downstairs. She does sit on the stairs at night and meows. The stairs are the dustiest of all.

When I was a kid, flip-flops were called thongs. I never wore them. I didn’t like anything between my toes. I don’t remember wearing sandals either. Sneakers, white sneakers, were my summer footwear of choice. Ghana was when I first wore sandals all the time. It was hot so I liked my feet in the open air. I still wear sandals but I also sometimes wear sneakers. Mine are red, pink or purple. I try to match my ensemble.

I see lots of old men wearing white or black socks with their sandals. I always want to ask them why wear sandals. They are useless with socks. They become shoes.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, was a fierce dog when it came to protecting us and our house. I remember sometimes we’d be playing with my dad on the floor and howling. Duke, thinking we were being hurt, would put his jaw around my dad’s wrist. He never bit down. It was a warning. After my dad let go of us, Duke would remove his jaw. I was never afraid when Duke was around.

I bought some fireballs at the candy store. When I was a kid, I loved fireballs. I’d challenge myself to ignore the heat, but most times I’d lose and have to take the fireball out of my mouth. Nothing much has changed. I ate one yesterday, and it got hot, hotter than I remembered. I had to take it out of my mouth for a couple of minutes, but then I put it back and struggled through. When it was the smallest, I bit through it. I have one more fireball I’m saving for another day. The challenge stands.

Today is April on Cape Cod. It is cloudy, windy and cold. Henry is upstairs sleeping while Jack is here beside me. Gwen is in her room. All is right with my world.

My to do list is blank. It is just one of those days, a sloth day. I have a trash bag, a litter bag and boxes to put in the car but not yet because Henry has an appointment tomorrow with his therapist, and I need the back seat empty. I’m already nervous about Henry and the car. His new halter is still in the hall lying on the floor. I don’t want to traumatize him twice. This is his one year follow-up appointment.

I always thought most Sundays were wasted days when I was a kid. I had to go to mass and then hang around the house waiting for dinner. The only good Sundays were in the summer when it was often early mass and then the beach for the rest of the day. Lunch, at the beach, was a sandwich, a gritty sandwich. Oreos were snacks. They never got gritty.

When I was a kid, dogs roamed. I remember Duke, my dog, and his son Sam would meet up and roam together in a pack of two. One time my father got a call from a neighbor that both dogs were in the neighbor’s front yard and wouldn’t move. The neighbor was afraid to leave the house thinking the dogs would attack, but both were boxers, gentle dogs who looked fierce. Come to find out, the neighbor’s dog was in heat, and neither Duke nor Sam had any inclination to leave. My father went and put both dogs into the car. I suspect they were disappointed.

My friend Bill sent me a video filmed in Ghana. It was filmed in the Northern Region, about 100 miles from where we lived in Bolga. The tourist was a Ghanaian who hadn’t ever been north. She flew from Accra to Tamale and filmed the approach and landing at Tamale Airport. Out her window I could see the savannah and the brown grass. That went to my heart. I wanted to be there, dry season or not. When I wrote to Bill about my reaction, my longing, he said he had felt the same way. It is not easy to explain why. Just know that Peg, Bill and I love Ghana, and we’d like to make one more trip, one more return home.

The morning is mostly cloudy, but the sun is just waiting its turn. It will even get as high as 60˚. Yesterday my iPad fell out of my hands and went down the stairs a single step at a time, bang, bang, bang. I was horrified. I screamed and ran after it. The cover is cracked but it works fine. I looked on-line and found a place in Hyannis to have the cover replaced. It is now on my to-do list. I went to the dump yesterday. At one convergence there are lights for all four roads. I turned to wait in the right lane. When the light changed, I went right on the arrow and got honked at a couple of times. I had no idea where the car came from as the only cars moving at that green light went right, left or forward. He had to have jumped the light on the other side. That car then seemed to follow mine. We went left together then right then right again. We both turned left. I decided to drive to the police station, but the car turned right while I went straight ahead. That car spooked me. I wished Henry was with me. This morning I had no newspapers. I hate the start of today. Did I mention a cheeky chipmunk was in the no squirrel feeder?

When I was a kid, my father always started his day with coffee and the newspaper. My mother didn’t like coffee, and I don’t remember if she read the paper or not. They are my father’s mornings which are clearer in my memory. I can see him at the kitchen table, coffee cup to the right, ashtray beside the cup and the newspaper opened in front of him on the table. He always sat with his back to the rest of the kitchen. After his retirement and when the mornings were warm, he’d sit on the front step with his coffee and he’d read the newspaper. Cars honked and my father always waved. He became the neighborhood icon.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with today. It being a Saturday carries responsibilities. When I was a kid, it was the best day of the week. I got to eat cereal in front of the TV. I could go to the movies on a winter Saturday afternoon or hike around town or ride my bike hither and yon. I could read the day away if was rainy or cold. Saturday was all mine.

I’ve been retired almost 17 years. I’ve come to view every day as Saturday, and I have the same sense of property I had when I was a kid. Every day is all mine to do what I will. Wow!

Today is glorious. The morning is warm and we may reach 60˚. The sky hasn’t a cloud. It Is deep blue from end to end. Everything is still. I plan to go out today. It is a day not to be wasted.

When I was a kid, I relished a morning like today, a spring morning. I’d take my time walking to school not wanting to waste what little freedom a weekday gave. Recess was too long in winter but not long enough in spring. We huddled in winter. In spring we ran around the school yard in wild abandonment but only as wild as the one or two nuns watching us at recess would allow. I figured the nuns were there to prevent a schoolyard break-out.

I love the colors of spring when the garden is lit with yellow daffodils and purple crocus gather in the small circle garden out front where a tree used to be. The grape hyacinths are three different colors, all variations of purple. They are by the walkway so I get to watch them poke their heads out of the ground and grow tall. I am so excited when the tips of the bumpy buds appear. I get to watch them grow and flower.

When I was a kid, we once went on vacation to New Hampshire. I remember the ride up Mount Washington. I kept looking out the window. The side of the road seemed awfully close to the edge and the drop down the mountain. My father had to use first gear the whole drive up the road. When we got to the top, it was cold, see your breath cold. It was also foggy, and there was snow on the side of the building. I didn’t have a sweater or a jacket. It was summer everywhere else but Mount Washington.

When I was sixteen, we went to Niagara Falls, and I groused about the trip, about being stuck in the car and missing summer, but this vacation turned into my favorite of all vacations, and that doesn’t even count the falls. It was everything else. We stopped at the Eisenhower Lock on the St. Lawrence River to watch a ship go through. I was amazed. We stayed in a house on Lake Ontario for a night. The lake was across the street from the house. We walked over to the shore line and skipped a few rocks. It was a competition of sorts. I remember the water lapping the shore the same way it does at the ocean. I watched the water for a while then walked across the street and went to bed. The next morning we started home. I think that was our last family vacation.