The weather report says partly cloudy and a high of 65˚, but it is still morning chilly. I have to go to the dump today so I’m hoping for a bigger bit of sun, a warmer bit of sun. I want another nice day. Come on, sun!

My neighborhood is always quiet on a Sunday morning. On Saturdays I can hear kids playing basketball down the street and lawn mowers, many lawn mowers from all directions. The roads are busier. Today, though, I heard only birds when I went outside. I stood by the car and listened. I enjoy Sunday mornings.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t such a fan of Sundays. Every Sunday started the same way. I had to go to church. After church I could go out, but I had to stay close. I had to be around for Sunday dinner. That left only the late afternoon for me. Sometimes I’d ride my bike or find a quiet place and read or even visit friends who lived on the block. Sunday evenings meant early to bed for school the next day. We abided Sundays. We had no choice.

On Saturday nights I watch all the science fiction shows I saw when I was growing up or even some from when I was grown. All but two are Irwin Allen’s. Lost in Space is 60’s couture. Most of the clothes are pastels. Lime green is a favorite. Pink is a close second. Only Dr. Smith is wearing dark clothing, a character tell. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea is another. The Seaview is the biggest sub even imagined with corridors, rooms, labs and offices. The corridors are wide, and everyone walks upright. It carries a flying sub, a yellow flying sub. Then there is The Time Tunnel. The main characters travel back and forth through time solving problems when and where ever they land, but solving their travel problem is out of reach. I don’t watch Land of the Giants. I do watch my favorites, Kolchak: The Night Stalker and The Invaders, the only non Irwin Allen programs. They are on quite late, and I usually manage to watch a couple. The rest I DVR. Today I have already watched The Invaders and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. I have had two cups of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. It has been a good Sunday so far.

Pulchritude is the word of the day. Outside is stunning. The blue is a deep color. I can’t see even a single cloud. Every now and then a branch moves. The sun is bright, this time of year bright, sort of for looks, not utility. I was out on the deck earlier, a couple of times, to chase the spawns of Satan away from one of the feeders. I tiptoed and hid so he couldn’t see me. I jumped out and he leapt to a tree trunk, turned around and chattered at me, his tail shaking the whole time. He was pretty angry. The tip toeing gave me a laugh later. How silly.

I hope I can explain well why this is one of those mornings which feels like Ghana to me. That memory is triggered on chilly mornings like today’s. They remind me of mornings in Bolga in December during the harmattan. Here, the morning feels chilly, but you know it will get warmer. You can sense it in the air. In Bolga the mornings have a chill left over from the cold night, and you relish the feeling of being cold because you know it will get hot, really hot by afternoon, 3 digits hot.

I’ve jumped ahead a bit to those languid afternoons in Ghana which have nothing to do with the paragraph above. The memories jumped in, prompted I think by talk of hot afternoons. I’d be in my living sitting on one of the red cushioned chairs, my only real decor, probably reading or preparing lessons. If I got up, my outline was on the chair cushions in sweat. It was a hot time of year. The afternoons were sometimes really quiet. The students had a forced time to be in their dorms in the late afternoon. I know I heard insects, but I never saw them. They almost sounded like crickets. Sometimes I’d nap despite the heat. Other times I went to town to shop. I loved going to town. I loved shopping in the market with all its colors and sounds. I could hear the women chatting among themselves, mostly in FraFra but many knew Hausa so I could greet them, and they were delighted I knew their language, even if only a few words. The women wore cloth made in Ghana. It was colorful and filled with designs. Many women wore three pieces: a top, bottom and a sling for the babies on their backs.

It is strange how some memories jump out prompted by something else. I went from the chilly mornings to red cushions and lazy afternoons and finally to the market. When I’ve gone back to Bolga, I always shop in the market. It is so big now I could easily get lost, but I don’t think I’d mind that. It is still noisy. It is still one of my favorite places.

Today is already warm. It is 63˚ and will even get higher. There are some clouds, small white clouds, a blue sky and sun. The blue sky is getting bigger. The now and then wind is strong. I’m ready for a few outdoor tasks. The bird feeders need filling. Gold finches and a pair of cardinals are frequent visitors, and their feeder is low. My little library needs more tape to cover the holes the birds made. I bought green duct tape. I have new lights for the deck railing. I wonder how long these will last.

My upstairs bathroom floor has been driving me crazy. When I go in at night to clean and refill the cats’ water dish, I see a lot of cat hair on the floor and dried spots of water below the toilet and across the floor toward the door. I blamed Henry. The other night I walked in on Jack. He was standing on his cat tip toes with his two front paws in the toilet and he was having a drink. He gave me a glaring look and went back to drinking. I waited by the door until he was done. The mystery has been solved.

This time of day and early evening are when all three of my animals are upstairs. Jack sleeps in my room while the two cats are in the guest room. Often, especially on cold days, both the cats sleep under the bed near a heater. Because I always give them treats when I go into the room, they come out to greet me. Jack has to squeeze himself almost to the floor to get from under the bed. Jack is a really big boy.

When I was a kid, I always had an answer. That didn’t thrill my dad. He got even madder. I learned early how far I could take it before the veins in my dad’s neck popped. Most times he just sent me to my room. He made happy. My room was always a refuge for me. I could lie in my bed and read. Upstairs was usually quiet. I was alone. It was my favorite punishment.

When I graduated from high school, my parents gave me a typewriter. It, of course, came to college with me. I was a slow typist as I needed to see the keys. I can remember sitting at the kitchen table in my senior year apartment typing a paper for theology. I had my small bottle of Wite-Out beside me. I needed it. The problem was it took a long time to dry. I can remember blowing on the Wite-Out then touching it to see if it was dry only to smear it. Typing my papers often took longer than writing them. I still have my typewriter.

Yesterday was a delight. The weather was so beautiful I was happy to be out and about. My appointment was in Hyannis. I went the Mid-Cape to get there and then decided to go Route 28 home. It is the long way but the most interesting way. When I was a kid, Route 28 was dark in winter because nearly all the motels and restaurants closed for the season. In January Route 28 was a ghost town of sorts. Here and there were open grocery stores and a couple of restaurants, but the rest were dark. Yesterday I remembered.

The Mill Hill Club was on the corner across the street from the roller skating rink. Both buildings are still there but only the rink is recognizable. Just a bit down the street I passed where the Dairy Queen used to be near the A&W which is also gone. One corner further down used to be Chez Lenor bridal shop. The upper floor was a giant window with mannequins formally dressed. The rumor was the shop was actually a brothel, and the mannequins were the key. One mannequin in the window would face forward or backward to signal whether the brothel was open for business. Now it is an empty track of land with an orphaned parking lot, a stretch of grass and an urban legend.

I passed a neat building which looks Polynesian. It was once a popular gift shop called The Barefoot Trader. When people came down to visit my parents, this store was on my mother’s shop tour. After that it became a Bass shoe outlet. I shopped there. It is now the Ability Farm thrift store.

One strip of stores in West Yarmouth is mostly empty. Only a Thai restaurant is left. The buildings are wooden and quite old and are looking shabby. There used to be a drug store, a grocery store and a bakery where I always stopped if I was in the neighborhood. I think there was once a paint store but I’m not sure. This strip mall has a dubious future.

I passed Jerry’s Seafood restaurant. It looks exactly as it did when I was in high school. Jerry was around then and was prone to yelling. I stopped there for lunch a few months ago. I ordered shrimp with fries and onion rings, always with onion rings. Jerry’s are the thin sort, my favorite sort.

I jumped off 28 just passed the liquor store for the back road. That store too has been around a long while. The back road takes me near where my family used to live. Every now and then I go pass our house for the memories.

Today is a rainy day. I’m happy with the rain.

The days are pretty this time of year. The sun is always bright though not always warm. That will come in time. Pops of color are everywhere. My front garden has white flowers, purple flowers in different shades, a few pink flowers and one bright, perfectly round yellow forsythia of advanced age. I love standing and leaning against the car to look at my garden in the mornings.

Today is cool, somewhere between a sweatshirt and a flannel shirt. I may go out but I may wait until tomorrow when I have an appointment. I like to combine errands.

When I was a kid, I liked school. I didn’t count days until vacations. I just let them come. This time of year the afternoons were lighter and warmer. My bike came out of the cellar. I mostly rode around the neighborhood on weekdays. Every nice afternoon, I’d ride a few streets over and back in different directions. The spring air was coldest downhill from my house. Sometimes the sleeves of my jacket puffed, and I’d laugh and spread out my arms for the wind to take, but it made my balance precarious. I’d have to grab the handlebars especially as I neared the bottom of the hill.

During recess a couple of groups of girls staked space in the schoolyard for jump roping. The boys played at the two basketball hoops. Those were the sides of the schoolyard: one side girl’s, one side boys’. I was never a jump roper so my friends and I just stood in a group talking. On the other side boys did something. They never just stood. Usually lines weren’t crossed except when it was time to go back inside. After the bell, we lined up in rows of twos, girls in front, boys in back. It looked regimented, but I never felt that way. Lines went into three different doors depending on grade: one in the old school and two in the new school. The stand-out memory of recess for me is when I punched some boy in the face. He was harassing my friend and wouldn’t stop so I stopped him. My punch was quite effective. I never got into trouble for that. I told Sister Superior the facts. She reprimanded the boy. Sister Superior was far ahead of her time.

When I woke up, I looked out my bedroom window, the same as I do every morning. I could see the blue sky and lots of sun. Not even the smallest branch was moving. When I got downstairs, I went put on the deck while Henry was in the yard. It’s chillier than I expected, 51˚. It won’t get much warmer. I don’t care as I’m staying home again today. I want to wash the kitchen floor. Paw prints lead from the door to the hall from the rain the other day.

I remember Miss Emily and Miss Mamie Baldwin from The Waltons. The Miss is used respectfully when speaking to or about elderly women. I heard it on a program the other night referring to an elderly neighbor who bakes cakes for new neighbors. Now I have first hand experience. My friends who used to be my neighbors call me Miss Kath. I have reached the dignified age.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t into fashion yet I forecasted a trend. One Easter I told my mother I didn’t want a dress I’d probably never wear again. I wanted new pants, a new blouse and a blazer sort of jacket. I wanted a pants suit at a time where there were no pants suits. My mother shopped and found me the perfect combination. I couldn’t wear the pants to church, but I did wear them the rest of the day. I have a distinct memory of that Easter. We were at my grandparents. As usual my grandmother, my mother and the aunts were in the kitchen. As I was coming down the stairs, I heard one of my aunts ask my mother why I wasn’t wearing new Easter clothes, meaning an Easter dress. My mother told her I was wearing what I wanted and that ended it. Little did the aunt know I was actually a fashionista.

I thought I bought non-clumping litter. I didn’t. The clumps are the size of little mountains. The cleaning scoop is to small. I need a shovel. I have more litter ordered from Amazon due today. It is non-clumping. I made sure.

The new lights for the deck are ordered, two sets of them. Henry won’t go out the dog door late at night into the darkness. When there were lights on the rail, he was fine. Now I have to get up and let him out. I have to let him in too Why do I still have a dog door?

My today will be a half sloth day starting after I sweep and wash the kitchen floor, but I’m starting to hate sitting here in the den where I can see the dust on the wooden boxes along the side of the wall. My solution: I’ve decided not to look.

Today is rainy, around 48˚, sort of warm. Right now I am being entertained by the movie Reptilicus. I’ve laughed out loud at some of the scenes. The screaming, running crowd scenes are fun to watch, but my favorite was when the monster broke through the roof of a family home and snatched the father. In the next scene the monster’s mouth was open and was holding a cartoon father drawn straight from a comic book. The father cartoon slid down the monster’s throat. The soldiers are using machine guns to try and kill Reptilicus who is in the process of destroying the town. I’m thinking they’re in trouble.

When I was a kid, I loved Saturday Creature Feature. There were always two movies. Most were black and white films from the 50’s, still my favorite science fiction movies. Invaders from Mars is one I watch every time it is on TV. Why I don’t have my own DVD is a mystery to me. I did buy one copy for my sister as a stocking stuffer. “It’s a good thing they are no more like him,” is the last line in the movie. The last scene is of the bottom of the ocean and a baby Reptilicus.

Everything is quiet. The only sounds are raindrops and the clicking of my keyboard. The house feels cozy and warm. I have a light glowing in each room. Clear candles shine in the windows. They are lit all day all year.

I have no to-do list, but I do have a couple of projects. In here, in the den, are two wooden boxes filled with records. I want to go through them and see what I have. I do have a turntable now. I still need to move cookbooks to make room in the kitchen bookcase. That one is a bit away.

I talk out loud to Henry even if he’s not in the room. Sometimes I have a great idea and tell him, but I should write it down. I forget and Henry can’t tell me. What a disappointment.

Today I am dining. My menu includes pork, mashed potatoes and peas. I will sit down to a late afternoon dinner. It is Sunday after all.

This morning is glorious. The sun is brighter and the blue sky deeper than yesterday’s. It is already 62˚and will get as high as 68˚. I’m figuring on some deck time in a bit. I’m got a good book I’m half-way through so I’ll sit in the quiet of the backyard and read. What a delightful day!

Yesterday I sliced my finger with the dog food top. It took four band-aids then one more. This morning I removed those band-aids. They were stuck to my finger. I yelped when I pulled them off then I ran for tissue paper to put around my finger. It is an ugly cut.

The other day I went for a short ride. I saw spring. I saw forsythias blooming. Most formed walls on the edges of gardens. Tulips and dafs were in groups by color. I went slowly so as not to miss the world around me. A couple of times I turned in somewhere to let the car behind me go in front. I didn’t want to be like a tourist. I rode around for close to an hour down cape then back up. Henry was glad to see me when I got home.

Speaking of Henry, he let me cut his nails the other day. He was quite patient and didn’t pull any of his paws back. I just cut the tips. He no longer tap dances.

My dance card for this weekend is empty. I could make a run to Agway’s for pet treats and maybe even some hearty garden flowers. I’m a sucker for flowers, but I’m thinking the deck is calling me, metaphorical.

When I was a kid, I loved spring. The mornings always smelled good. They were cool but the sort of cool that disappeared as the day went on. Everything was green but lots of different greens. The only layer left was my spring jacket and maybe a sweater underneath. My mother didn’t force me to wear a hat. I had hands instead of mittens. Sometimes I even skipped to school. I loved recess, but my favorite part of the day was walking home, hurrying home so I could have more time outside to play in the growing warmth of spring, much more time before supper.

The sun is amazingly bright. The sky is a deep blue which looks best between the thinner branches of the pine trees, the ones at the tops. Today will be spring weather on Cape Cod, a high of 57˚. I have a few errands so I’ll be heading out a bit later. It is a glorious day for errands.

My to-do list has a new name, one with no immediacy. I have been what my mother would have called a Whirling Dervish. I had no idea what she meant until I saw a movie, a James Bond movie, with Whirling Dervishes. The dance was amazing and beautiful. (Why I remembered where I had seen them is a mystery to me.) Well, back to the main event: my cleaning frenzy. I am pleased to say that I did clean yesterday, but I only dust mopped the stairs and the hall then I sat on the couch eating chocolate chip cookies. Well, the new list is now called “What I’m Thinking.” No time is attached.

When I was a kid, spring vacation was a long time in coming. Our last vacation had been in February, not such a great time vacation with the weather and all. Spring vacation was always in April. Sometimes we’d get wonderful weather, sunny and warm weather. Other times it was cold and windy, a replica of February vacation.

We were never in the house when it was warm in April. We rode our bikes all around because there was so much to see. The cattle on the dairy farm, the holsteins I found out later, were out all day. I remember watching them slog in the mud on the way to the field. The ground had been hard in winter.

If we were lucky, the zoo would be open. It didn’t cost anything. There was a bike rack right by the entrance. We’d walk on the paths around the cages. Many of the animals were out on a sunny day.

We’d stop for lunch. We usually packed one on sunny Saturdays. We knew they were days not to be wasted eating inside. After lunch we’d hit the road again. Sometimes it was hunting balls on the golf course and off the golf course and across the street. On good days we’d find a couple or even more. On bad days we’d wish we had a way to get the golf balls out of the water without getting wet. That never happened.

I remember riding to the next town and bicycling around the lake. The houses were so big and beautiful. They were the best I had seen ever in all my ten years or so. Most times we’d ride around until we came to traffic, cars coming around the rotary. We’d run with the smallest break in traffic. We always made it across even wheeling our bikes. The next leg of the ride was through the square of the town next to mine. That square had a diner, a great diner, the sort where you wanted to have breakfast all the time. It wasn’t long from there to home. We’d get home before supper and watch some TV. It was a perfect April vacation day.

Today we celebrate Earth Day. Cue the composting, recycling, repurposing, carpooling, thrifting, and metal straws to save the turtles. Protect our home.

( My usual musing is below the Earth Day songs)