The morning is glorious. I first work up at 5:15 and went downstairs to open the door for the dogs. It was the best of Cape Cod early mornings and gave hint of the lovely day to come. The air was still night cool. The fog was just below the tops of the pine trees. The sky was still a bit cloudy. It was quiet except for the birds greeting the day. The dogs ran in the yard a bit then came inside. The three of us went back to sleep.

Last night Nala started to go down the stairs then I heard what I thought was her falling. It wasn’t. Running up the stairs was poor Jack being chased by Nala. I stopped Nala. Jack escaped. Nala went to the hole in the gate and looked through. Jack was sitting there defiant, just staring. Nala cried.

Today will be hot, 75˚. In Boston it is already 83˚and will hit 90˚. I’m glad I live here.

When I was a kid, I believed in UFO’s, Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster not to forget the man with the hook. That they had never been seen made no never mind. They were good at hiding. The man with the hook appeared only at night. He scratched cars and windows before attacking. I know that was true. My father told me.

Summer nights have always been my favorites. I used to sit on the back steps and enjoy the coolness of the evenings. My house was on the corner of the street. It was a duplex. The backyard was at the bottom of a grassy hill. My house was one corner of a square, a right angle. There were two houses on the left and two houses on the right. There were three above the grassy hill. I remember the lights on at every house. Through screen doors I could hear muted voices and televisions. I was usually the only one still outside. I liked it that way. The night belonged to me.

When I was in Ghana, I went to Accra, the capital, just about every school vacation. I went out to restaurants, saw movies, shopped at High Street where the Hausa traders were and roamed the city. I was never afraid to walk at night usually back to the Peace Corps hostel. I chose to save the 20 pesewas of a cab ride. The streets were mostly quiet. The shops were shuttered. Men sat together outside talking. I never knew what they said. It was usually in Twi, the local tribal language. I did know how to say good evening in Twi, and I always did. Sometimes I was first while other times the men were. I loved those evenings.

My evenings are still quiet. I still savor the night.

The day is uninviting. I was asleep when it rained and didn’t even hear it. I woke up to a damp chill and wet grass. Today will stay cool, in the mid 60’s. Mind you, I’m not complaining. It will be hot every day soon enough. I have to go out, a doctor’s appointment. That will be out two days in a row, one short of my record.

On the dog front, Nala makes me laugh. She has so much energy. She pulls every toy out of the toy box to find the perfect one. She loves toys which make noise. As for the cats, Nala lies in front of the cat room gate. Jack sits on the other side of the gate and stares. Nala cries.

Boxers are smart dogs. Nala already knows how to go in and out of the dog door. I’m hoping she’ll teach Henry it is safe to go into the house through the dog door. Henry is still a bit skittish, a bit fearful. Right now Nala is asleep on the couch. Henry is upstairs asleep on my bed. The cats are asleep in their room, Gwen on the bed and Jack in the kitty tent with a flap.

When I was a kid, I remember my father taking the whole family to a Hood dairy farm in New Hampshire open to the public, a Sunday family jaunt. I remember the house, barns and fences around the pastures were white, a New England farm, but I remember the barns the best. Music was piped inside for the cows. It seems cows like music though I’m not sure what genre. I doubt rock and roll. Cows lumber.

When I was graduating from the eighth grade, we went on a class trip to Nantasket, to Paragon Park. My mother came as a chaperone. My friend Jimmy and I went all the rides together. The roller coaster was our favorite, a wooden coaster aptly named The Giant Coaster. The rotor, a sort of giant looking barrel, went fast in a circle and stuck us to the walls. We even went on the carousel. I chose a mighty steed. The carousel is the only ride left.

A couple of friends and I spent the day at Paragon Park just before it was closed and torn down. I rode the roller coaster four times. The ride was spectacular. I loved the clicking sound as the coaster moved on the track. It slowly went up the hill then sped down and around corners. I screamed only for effect.

Once I went on a coaster that went upside down around circles. It was fast and a little scary, but I missed the quirks of the wooden coaster with so much personality.

The rain started a couple of hours ago. It was an easy rain then it got heavy. Even Nala wouldn’t go outside. She poked her head out the dog door then backed inside. Her head was wet. I’m wearing my sweatshirt.

Nala and Henry are getting along wonderfully. Henry was even licking Nala’s head. They sleep beside each other on the bed leaving me scrunched. Last night Nala and Jack faced each other with the gate between them. The gate has a hole so the cats can move in and out of the room. Jack was maybe three feet from Nala. That gave me hope then later Nala chased Jack.

When I was a kid, my dog Duke, my first ever boxer, was the best protection. Nobody got near the house without Duke’s notice. He ignored passer’s by but loudly announced anybody coming toward our house. Boxers are fierce looking. Duke’s bark was deep. Some people just turned around. Nala doesn’t bark yet or maybe she is just being polite as Henry barks and scares people. They leave boxes away from the door. The two of them, Nala and Henry, stand together looking out the front door surveying their yard, making sure it is safe. Henry gives warning. I always check.

I’m glad I didn’t wash the kitchen floor yesterday, the one sunny day.

I have two cookies, both cranberry-oatmeal. They are the sum total of sweet food in my house. I feel bereft. Where is the chocolate?

My laundry sits in the hall in front of the cellar door. I walk by it several times a day. I give it a quick look. I have no guilt that the laundry has been sitting there close to a week. I still have clothes left, that’s the barometer for needing to do laundry.

When I was in Africa, I didn’t do my laundry so maybe this reluctance started back then when the only way to wash clothes was in a bucket. I saw it done, my impetus for paying to have my laundry washed by someone other than me. That also including ironing. Hand washing makes wrinkles. Charcoal irons are sort of neat, in an old-fashioned way.

Today I have to go out. It would rain.

The earlier sun has become clouds, but it is warmer than the days of rain. It will get as high as 73˚. I’m not even wearing my sweatshirt. This morning I went out to watch the dogs. Nala goes in and out the dog door by herself but still hasn’t realized the varied uses of the backyard, like for peeing. She and Henry are doing just fine together. I make sure Henry always comes first. He grins and wags his whole butt when he is happy. He did that this morning.

I am the servant of animals. Four of them live here. Jack hisses at Nala so I go into the secure cat room and scratch and pet them. I give them treats. I give Henry and Nala treats. Each of the dogs is on medication so I hide their pills in turkey. The cats I feed a couple of times a day. The dogs eat once. I clean litter boxes every day. I wish my house were as clean.

This morning I decided I need a lot of things. I need to do my laundry. I need to take a shower. I need to vacuum my house. I need peanut butter.

When I was a kid, my life was simple. Most kids’ lives were. Much of the year, I had school. I had church on Sunday. We had family dinners and supper every night. The rest of the time was mine. In summer almost all the time was mine. It was filled with playing with friends, bike riding, watching TV mostly in the evening, trips to the library and family jaunts to the drive-in and the beach. Many days I spent at the playground playing softball and tennis, games like checkers and horseshoes and doing crafts. Such was my life. It mostly had no complications, no demands and no responsibilities. School and church were the only exceptions. I had to go to both.

My life right now is so very quiet. Mostly I’m at home but being home day after day, I sometimes get bored. That’s when I clean. Today I’m cleaning. The dust rises into the air when I walk. My kitchen floor is filled with paw prints. Two dogs do make a bit of a mess after being outside in the rain. I can write my name in the dust on the table. I blame the pollen though it’s gone now. I could also blame the animals. They shed. Mostly, I think, actually I know, my inertia is to blame. If I were living in the Victorian Age, it would be called malaise. I’d be sitting on the lounge with the back of hand on my forehead and looking anguished. Instead, I vacuum.

Memorial Day is a day for thanks and a day for reflection. I hope you remember those to whom we owe so much. This is my annual tribute. 

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation’s service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women’s groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, “Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping” by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication “To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead.” While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it’s difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860′s tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day

“Dulce et decorum est”

The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace . . . Who brought a sword.

Joyce Kilmer

Check yesterday’s weather. It is the same today. The rain doesn’t stop. It is only 49˚ and won’t get much higher. The wind is far lighter than yesterday’s. I am staying home again today. It is the driest spot I know.

Big news here! My family has an addition. Nala joined us yesterday. She is a one year old boxer. Nala is fawn but has interesting coloring. She has a black tail and a bit of black across her back. She has all the energy of a one year old. Lala lived with my cousin Mitch and his wife Kelly. They are boxer lovers from way back. Besides Nala, they had another boxer, an almost three year old female. The two of them started fighting with Nala being the aggressor. She got the worst of the deal each time and yesterday had to go to the vets. When Kelly brought Nala home from the vets, she went after the other dog again. Mitch and Kelly’s baby grandson and his parents live with them so they wanted to protect the baby just in case. Mitch called me shortly after that knowing I am a boxer lover. Both Kelly and Mitch were devastated. Poor Kelly was crying, and I knew exactly why. Losing a dog in any way is so very heartbreaking. Lovers of dogs know that all too well.

Nala checked everything out room by room, got hissed at by Jack and Henry bared his teeth once. It was a warning. Nala follows Henry everywhere. She eats his bones and sleeps on his side of the couch. I keep moving her to the other side. Last night one dog was on each side of me sleeping while I watched TV. Going to bed took a while. Henry would jump on the bed then Nala would jump on then Henry would get off and Nala would follow. Finally I told both of them to work it out and I turned off the light. I woke up at 5:30, and the two of them were sleeping beside each other. I took them out and back and then went to sleep. When I woke up, Nala was beside me resting her head on my arm. Henry was sleeping at the bottom of the bed. When I got downstairs, I found she had peed and pooped on the dining room floor. I had taken her out before bed and at 5:30, but I didn’t watch her outside. Now, the three of us will go out together.

Today I’ll keep an eye on both dogs and hope Nala will find outside a better bathroom, lots more choices. Right now is nap time on the couch. I may join them.

Today is cold, dark and rainy. The wind is spectacular. My house was cold when I woke up. It was only 61˚. The heat for a little while, a sweatshirt and hot coffee solved the cold problem. Rain is predicted for the rest of today and tomorrow.

When I was a kid, a rainy Saturday was the worst. The four of us were stuck inside the house in close quarters. The living room couch was my spot for the morning where I sat with my cereal bowl in hand. I had a good view of the TV. I’d watch until my shows were over then I’d read a while or play in the cellar or pull out a game hoping for an opponent. I’d pray the rain would stop. Nothing was worse than a wasted Saturday in the house.

In Ghana, the rainy season meant rain just about every day. Sometimes the rain was unbelievably fierce and heavy while other times it was gentle. I never minded going out in the gentle rain. I was in Southern Ghana, perpetually green Southern Ghana, during the first two weeks of training. I enjoyed the daily rain. Everything washed clean and the aroma of the greenery was thick, especially in the mornings. The second part of training was in the Upper Region, in Bawku and Bolga. The trees were full of leaves. The fields had tall millet and corn growing. The market was filled with stalls offering vegetables, especially tomatoes and onions. Later, when I lived in Bolga, I found out brown was the color of the dry season. Brown fields, leafless trees and dusty roads were the hallmarks of dry season in the Upper Region.

Yesterday I didn’t organize my albums; instead, I cleaned the cat room. I chose a worse task which sort of matched my mood. I vacuumed, wet mopped the floor, cleaned food dishes and organized the litter and food. The room looks good. A while back, I bought Jack and Gwen their own little houses. I put them on the bed. Twice now, I’ve gone into the room, and Jack has come out of his house. He must feel cozy as I suspect he sleeps in a ball so he’ll fit.

The other day I found two desiccated ears of corn in the back of the fridge. I threw them into the backyard figuring a spawn would find them. The other day I saw a piece of corn husk in the backyard. The spawns better be appreciative.

Today is sweatshirt weather despite the sun. Every now and then the breeze is almost a wind. It is 59˚ and will get colder, down to 47˚ tonight. The sun will disappear. Rain is predicted for tonight and the rest of the weekend. Today I start staying home until Monday except for a dump run, probably on Sunday. The cape will be inundated with tourists for the long weekend. Everything is booked. Even my absent neighbors who live in New York are down for the weekend.

Today I’m going to finish a task which has been on my to-do list the longest, sort through my vinyl. I know there are some I bought when I was in high school and college. Now that I have a turntable I want to hear my records again.

When I was a kid, my mother had a hifi. It was her prize possession. She used it all the time. I remember it was brown, and my father bought it for her when he got a bonus at work. She kept her pile of records beside it. I remember a Frank Sinatra or maybe a couple of Frank Sinatra’s. She was a fan. My mother transitioned to cassettes when she a got a cassette recorder for Christmas one year. We bought her the same albums she had on vinyl, but my mother didn’t stop there. She was given a CD player. Her Christmas presents were not a secret that year.

The deck lights are up, set 4 or 5. I’ve lost track. Last night I didn’t need the back door light, and neither did Henry. The small white lights strung down the bannister cast plenty of light. I did a bit of research before I put them outside. Into Google went my request for what will deter spawns of Satan though I did have to call them squirrels for the hunt. Peppermint oil was the answer, a great answer. I could use a natural deterrent. The spawns hate the scent of the peppermint. I ordered from Amazon and had it the next day. The scent of the peppermint was almost delicious as I sprayed the wires up and down. I’m going to use apple cider vinegar from a spray bottle on the feeders and the deck rail. Spawns hate it and it is safe for birds, the peppermint isn’t. I learned a lot.

Most places will not demand masks starting tomorrow. The covid orders have been rescinded here. It has been a long run.

Every day is beautiful. I wake up to sun and blue sky. Henry goes out, and I follow him to the deck and stand in the sun and the warmth. It will be a hot day, a still day, in the mid 70’s, but tonight it will drop to the 50’s and usher in a bit of cold weather. It rained during the night, not much though. I knew it rained only because I could see where the drops fell in the pollen. They made sort of a weird design on the deck.

Being alone so much has been getting to me. My patience is on the short end. Henry hides upstairs. He is tired of listening to me. Jack just sleeps. I tell both of them everything much to their dismay. They even look bored. I do miss people and conversation.

When I was a kid, I loved walking to school on days like today. The mornings still had a bit of chill but not so much we needed sweaters though my mother insisted. The walk was easy. It was down the hill, around the field then a straightaway to school. We’d hang in the schoolyard until a nun came outside and rang the bell. It was a hand bell in those days. We’d run and get into our lines grade by grade. Nuns needed order. In the classrooms there were usually at least 40 of us. Despite that, it was quiet. No one dared talk and bring down the wrath of the nun in front of the room who, despite her wimple, saw everything. Nuns were endowed with superhuman powers.

Cheeseburgers are on my top ten list of foods. I sometimes add tomatoes but not lettuce. I like mayo on my burgers. The cheese changes. Lately it has been Monterey Jack. Hot dogs are my go to food when I haven’t wanted to cook anything which isn’t quick and easy. I actually ate a salad the other day, one which came prepared. My system had no idea what it was. Even Henry, the chow hound, turned up his nose. He is more of a fruit fan.

I have to go out today for the third time this week. That is a record for me.

Last night I lost electricity. 74 other houses also went dark according to the electric company. The television, the light in the den and the light in the kitchen went dark with a finality. I thought I heard a bang. I went and got the lantern from the kitchen then sat back on the couch. Henry immediately leapt on the couch and sat beside me. His whole body was shaking. I put my arm around him, spoke quietly and patted him. It took a while, but he stopped shaking and sighed as he laid down. I hated to move from Henry, but in a bit I had to go to the bathroom. I swear Henry walked so closely behind me he stepped on my slipper. I then went to the front door because I thought I saw lights at my neighbor’s house. I did, three of them, but they were outside, solar I suspect. Later, I thought I heard a truck so I opened the front door. An electric company truck was at the end of the road. Henry didn’t follow me to the door, and though I was gone only a couple of minutes, he was shaking when I returned to the couch, but he did take the cookies I had brought for him. The lights were out for over three hours. 

Yesterday I put Mason jars on the deck rail right outside the door. The tops of the jars have a solar disk and inside each is a small sets of lights. I turned them on and left them. Last night all but one of them was lit. They looked beautiful so bright in the darkness, such lovely lights.

Today is May on Cape Cod. The sun is shining. When I look out my window, I can see the leaves on the oak tree glinting in the sun and blowing in the breeze. The sky is blue and cloudy with white wispy clouds. It is 62˚ but feels a bit colder because of the breeze. The high today will be 64˚.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember bad days. I remember bad moments, bad hours and bad things happening to me, but the badness came and went. I had a bad day yesterday. I was close to tears over several things. I dropped and broke a favorite dish from Ghana. It had been a gift from my sister. The trash bag split at the seam on its way to the car. The cat box was disgusting even though I clean it every day. It was the litter itself which was gross. I went to eat a scone. It had a bit of mold. One leg of my favorite around the house pants tore, actually wore away. That comes from me resting my elbows on the tops of my legs when I type at the table. The loss of electricity was next, three hours of darkness and a shaking dog, poor Henry.

That brings me to today. I had an English muffin for breakfast but the best part was the butter: Bosc pear butter with nutmeg and vanilla. That butter was so delicious I wanted to eat it from the jar with a spoon but adulthood crashed my dream, and I put the butter longingly away; however, I’m thinking I want another English muffin slathered with that pear butter. Maybe I’ll use a spoon. Today is a good day so far.