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.

Yesterday was a quiet day. I wasn’t very productive. I had to fill two of the bird feeders I just filled. The hungry birds are many. After I went back inside, I watched from the kitchen window for a while. Dining at the new mixed seed feeder were goldfinches, mostly males with their bright yellow plumage. A lone, drab female goldfinch was in and out quickly. Chickadees ate at the new sunflower seed feeder. They all still avoid the third feeder, the one where a spawn’s weight trips the feeder and the sides come down to cover the seed holes. I’m going to replace it.

This morning I caught a spawn at the new feeder. When I chased it away, I checked and found the new feeder chewed at one seed hole. I moved the feeder to a spot further away from the deck hoping the space will give the spawn some second thoughts. If not, I will.

The early morning was chilly and cloudy, but it is supposed to be warm today. I noticed the sun is beginning to make an appearance as it bobs in and out of the clouds. I see a bit blue.

When I was a kid, the house across the street, the one with the grape arbor, had a bird house the same colors as the house. It was on a pole in their backyard. I never saw any birds in it, but I did see a few birds stealing grapes. My grandparents had a similar feeder also on a pole. I never saw birds there either. I always wondered why those bird houses were avoided. They were up high enough, but I remember they were a bit ugly being blunt squares with layers of paint. I figured they may have offended the sensibilities of the birds.

I remember getting a new pair of roller skates one Christmas. I remember sitting on the curb while I put my new skates on. There was a procedure to follow when putting on skates. First was the slide. It was moved, slid to fit my foot then the screw had to be tightened so the slide wouldn’t move. My shoes were next. I put my shod feet on the skates fit to the grips and then took off the lanyard, really a rope, from around my neck. It held my roller skate key, the one made infamous by Melanie. I liked to skate. could even skate backwards which I thought was a great feat. Sometimes, when I was skating magnificently, Olympic quality, my skate came off at the grips. I’d let it hang by the strap while I walked to the curb to put the skate back on. I always felt a bit silly with a hanging skate.

I loved the way my feet felt when I roller skated. They seemed to become part of the skates. It was quite Zen.

When I woke up, it was cloudy. That was almost a couple of hours ago. Now, every now and then, the sun is breaking through the clouds. My weatherman, aka Hey, Google, said 50˚ and partly cloudy today. The optimist in me would have preferred partly sunny.

When I was a kid, my family played games together. My parents taught my brother and me to play whist. It was always the girls against the boys, and the girls almost always won which irritated my father. He blamed my brother and wanted to trade partners for me. I wasn’t having it. My father was a in-game yeller. We played dominoes. I was the only kid I knew who could play the game and not just use dominoes as building blocks. Sorry was our favorite game. Our killer instincts were in play, and a Sorry card was the weapon of sorts. We could send any opponent’s man back to start. When I was young, a scream was the reaction. Now curses, vile curses, have taken the place of screams.

I learned to play cribbage by watching my father play my brother. I wasn’t very good at first, and, to his delight, my father usually won. Fast forward: I became competitive and knew the game. When I visited my parents, my father always wanted to play cribbage. I did too. We sat at the kitchen table where we played at least a couple of games and more than that if my father hadn’t won. He always said I was lucky. He also said he was the better player. I always scoffed. My favorite games were when I skunked him. I’d cheer for myself and raise my arms in triumph. He’d immediately demand another game. My favorite times were when we traveled. My father and I played cribbage just about every night after dinner. We had bought our cribbage board in Ireland as we had forgotten to pack one, a mortal sin. The only board we could find tilted a bit. That board traveled everywhere with us. We played on planes, and boats, in parks and hotel bars.

In my memory drawers, I remember those cribbage games we played overseas as my favorite among the hundreds of cribbage games we played. It didn’t matter if I won, okay it mattered a bit, but what mattered the most was I was playing the game with my father. We made memories together. I remember in Germany my mother read while my father and I played . He’d have a drink, my mother always packed whiskey. We’d eat some crackers and cheese from packs with yellow cheese, Ritz crackers and a small wooden spreader. My mother packed those too. We usually played until bedtime when I’d say goodnight and go to my room. I always slept well even if I lost.

The morning is damp. I think it rained during the night because the sides of the street are wet. Though it is 46˚, it feels colder with no sun and a bit of a breeze. Rain is predicted for later. I have no errands today so rain is just fine with me.

On Saturday afternoon, I filled then hung the new bird feeders. Almost immediately the bright male goldfinches were back. They dined at the thistle feeder and the mixed seed feeder, both new. I kept watch out the kitchen window and saw the return of the chickadees, a couple of titmice and some mourning doves who were enjoying the seeds which had fallen on the deck. They are my only ground feeders. I also potted the small succulents I had bought last week. Saturday was a busy day.

My dinner yesterday was superb. The potato gratin was my favorite followed closely by the pork tenderloin. I have a couple of slices of pork and some potato left-over for lunch today. I’m yumming at the thought.

My morning ritual revolves around animals and getting my coffee perking. Henry is first down the stairs, but he waits half-way down to make sure I’m coming. He then races to the back door for me to let him out. This morning we both had a surprise as I hadn’t closed the back door last night. Henry went out. That’s Jack’s cue. He comes running into the kitchen for some loving and for some treats. When Henry comes in, he sits waiting for his treats. He takes one biscuit then goes down the hall where he munches his treats on the rug. Henry always takes his treats down the hall to the rug. That way he doesn’t miss a crump.

When I was a kid, I hated to feed Duke his dog food. Out of the can it was gross looking and smelled the way it looked. Duke got two cans of what back then was horse meat. Henry gets beef or chicken or duck. He enjoys them all. Henry is a chow hound.

On the Monday after Easter, my lunch box always included a bit of Easter candy, not from my depleted basket but from the cache my mother had hidden in the cabinet. When I walked to school, the jelly beans rattled against the sides of my metal lunch box. I used to shake the box for effect. I figured I was practicing the tambourine talent I had developed in my first grade rhythm band. Much later I realized many tambourine shakers in rock bands probably didn’t play any other instruments, but that’s okay. Just look at Davey Jones in The Monkees. He played a mean tambourine! I like to think I played a mean lunch box.

Happy Easter! Today is beautiful with sun and the deepest blue sky. It is a bit chilly. I was delighted to see so many flowers have bloomed. Today it is the biggest grape hyacinth.

I remember waking up on Easter morning when I was a kid and seeing my basket filled with goodies protected by a giant chocolate rabbit taller than the rest. I always reached for that rabbit. His ears were the first to go, easy pickings. I’d munch on them while I checked out the rest of my basket.

We all wore our Easter clothes to church, the first official unveiling of our new outfits. Everyone was fancy at Easter Sunday mass. The women’s hats had veils, flowers and even birds with feathers. I can still remember the sound of my new shoes tapping on the stones below the church steps when I made my way upstairs for mass. I sat in the back of the church for a quicker exit when mass was over.

Dinner was always around two. We had a ham which would later become the basis for pea soup, one of my favorites. We, of course, had mashed potatoes. I think we probably also had carrots, a sort of honoring of the day, and maybe some green beans. My father had his canned asparagus.

Unlike other holidays, we had no specific dessert for Easter. We ate sugar cookies we’d decorated, and I know there was more, but my memories of dessert are overshadowed by the chocolate rabbit and the rest of the candy in my Easter basket.

I used to out for Easter dinner with my friends, but that seems like a memory ago, someone’s else’s day. Today I will have Easter dinner at home. I am starting with crackers and cheese and roasted vegetables for appetizers. For dinner I am having pork tenderloin, potato cake with too many layers to count, seasoned carrots and green beans. Dessert will be cheesecake with chocolate sauce. I figure to eat around two. I’ll wear my Easter fascinator. Despite everything, some traditions last.

Today is lovely but chilly, April chilly which always makes me hope for a warmer day. The sun is bright, and the sky is a light blue, almost pastel in parts. My front garden is abloom. There are yellow dafs and a small deep purple hyacinth, all so beautiful and so welcome with their colors. Another hyacinth, one with a light purple bud, is close to blooming. I can see the yellow buds on my forsythia bush.

Mother Nature is working some magic in the garden, but I wish for warmer days, for more of spring. This morning was 34˚. Tonight too will be in the 30’s. Last week I bought a new bird feeder for mixed seeds, but when I found no seeds in the deck barrel, I went to Agway. Big mistake! I watched the baby chicks and cuddled a couple. My favorites were black, and they had the beginnings of feathers on their wings. I bought treats for Henry and the cats. I bought four small succulents to fill empty pots. I also bought a new sunflower bird feeder. Finally, I bought a bag of mixed seed.

When I was a kid, I remember Sunday rides on back roads. I remember how excited we got when we’d see horses in fields their heads bent to the grass. We’d tell my father to slow down so we could watch the horses eat. But we saved our loudest yells for when we sometimes saw deer in open fields. We all pointed and yelled, and the deer raised their heads. Sometimes we might have scared them away with our exuberance. I remember watching skunks waddle through the backyard all of us keeping our distance. The spawns were too common to deserve our notice. I think that was it for my wild animal count when I was a kid.

When I first got to Ghana and off the bus at the school where we’d be staying for the first couple of weeks, I saw lizards scurrying in front of me as I walked. I was amazed. I was really in Africa. My favorite lizards, who thought I’d ever say that, were the ones with orange heads and blue-green bodies. Lizards were all over the place so after a while I stopped noticing. I never stopped noticing the vultures. Then there were the baboons.

Here I see wild turkeys all the time, but I still watch. I’ve seen deer, one even almost hit the car, foxes, skunks, rabbits, old and young, with white tails, raccoons, the deer mice who have lived in my house, possums and coyotes. I think that’s the list. One time, though, the cape had a bear who was lost. He was caught and released in the western part of the state where he could find some friends.

I’m staying home today. I do have to go out tomorrow which makes four times this week. I’m staggered by that number.

Yesterday I beat the rain. I emptied my car at the dump, went to the bank and got pet food at Agway. The rain started late in the afternoon after I was home. It was a heavy rain, a loud on the roof for a while rain. I don’t remember when it stopped. I didn’t notice.

Today has leftover weather. It is chilly and rain is again predicted. The Red Sox opening day game for today is postponed until tomorrow. I’ll put away my peanuts and popcorn until then.

When I was a little kid, dressing us for outside this time of year was a conundrum for my mother. She wondered if the chill was cold enough for us to need a winter coat or were layers better. I favored ditching the winter coat for layers, for a sweater under my spring jacket. I never got cold, or at least that’s what I told my mother.

When I was really little, my mother shopped for my new Easter clothes. I didn’t have a whole lot of say. Every year I wore a dress worthy of swirling, a round hat with a small brim, white short gloves and a light jacket, a dressy jacket. I remember one jacket was deep blue and had a white collar and white buttons. My socks were white with lace, and I always wore black patent leather shoes. I think that outfit was universal, an unwritten Easter clothes’ rule all mothers knew.

The spawn of Satan has chewed another light set. That makes it spawns 2 and me nothing. Those lights have been hung there by the door and down the railing for over a year and were untouched until the last couple of weeks. I’m undecided about adding any more lights, but it is just so dark without them. I’ll have to buy cheap lights by the gross.

My dance card is empty and has been for months. Henry stays upstairs, his way of ignoring me. Jack sleeps. He is, after all, a cat. Gwen stay upstairs but comes out for me when I visit her. She gets treats. I have to go out today for the third day in a row. I think it is a new record.

The daffodils in the front garden have bloomed. They are the first bits of color with their bright yellow flowers. I can see crocus will be next then grape hyacinths. Every new flower is a surprise. 

Yesterday I cleaned but only the top of my desk with the wind up toys on it. I cleaned the desk top and all the wind-up toys, some of which are quite old for being cheap little plastic toys. The fishing set is close to 25 years old. It looks the worst for wear. I cleaned everything. Then I cleaned more in the den. I sat down and zap, my back hurt. I had been doing nothing two days. Now I know two isn’t enough. I’ll try three this time. 

Last night I had a splendid meal. I dined on the second pork chop and the rest of the turnip, leftovers. On the mashed turnip I sprinkled some Moroccan harissa then added a bit of butter and warmed the dinner in the microwave. As soon as it hit my tastebuds, it was an hmmm out loud moment. Yesterday’s dinner was even better than it had been on Sunday. Some leftovers are like that. My chili, actually my brother-in-law’s chili, is better the second day. Spaghetti sauce is always better the next day when it hits leftover status. I make my uncle’s sausage cacciatore the day before I’m serving it, all the better for the taste. Thanksgiving dinner on Friday is as tasty and maybe even tastier than the original meal. Chicken soup always tastes better for the next day or two. There are probably more, but these are the ones I remember the best. These are the tastiest ones for me.

When I turn off my bedroom light, Jack and Henry jump off the bed. I haven’t yet figured out why. During the night, when I’m asleep, Henry and Jack return. Henry is a bed hog. He sleeps mostly in the middle of the bed stretched out with his head near me. Jack sleeps at the bottom of the bed on my side. He also sleeps stretched out, and Jack is a big boy. I sleep so deeply I don’t even notice their return nor do I notice the shrinking real estate. I adjust.

What a lovely day, a bit chilly at only 49˚ but it will get a bit warmer by afternoon. Tonight, though, will be cold, in the 30’s. Spring is just so unpredictable.

My bird feeders need filling. I also have a string of solar lights to be placed outside somewhere. I’m toying with putting the string on my little library.

I never made it to the dump yesterday. It poured most of the afternoon. I still have a couple of bags for the trunk by the front door, but they will have to wait. The dump is closed until Wednesday.

When I was a kid, this week before Easter held none of the expectations of Christmas. New Easter clothes and an Easter basket were the highlights. In our baskets, we knew they’d be a chocolate bunny, usually hollow, big jelly beans, some hard eggs with white inside and a few Peeps. Besides the candy, we always got small gifts. Those were the surprise.

I remember a Holy Thursday when my mother and I went to church to watch the foot washing. My pompous grandfather was one of the barefooted men sitting in chairs on the altar, and he looked uncomfortable the whole time. While he was getting his feet washed by the kneeling priest, my mother and I were convulsed in laughter. We didn’t make any noise but our shaking shoulders probably gave it away. The best part of that service was the incense. I always wanted one of those gold incense burners the priests used.

We had Good Friday off from school though we had to do a vigil in church at some point in the afternoon for an hour or so. I always brought a book and looked devoted with my head down, but I was reading, not praying or maybe I was praying I didn’t get caught by the nun sitting behind us.

I have no list today. I find myself lacking the wherewithal to do anything. My bedroom is cluttered with boxes, and I hate the untidiness but not enough to do anything about it except gripe. I am getting quite adept at griping.