The weather is so much warmer today, sunning weather at 34°. Some of the snow is melting. I can hear the sounds of the drips falling from the roof. The sun is shining. The blue sky is cloudless. The air is so still even the smallest branches don’t move. The dogs are out longer. It is a lovely day.

When I was a kid, I used to go to the library often. I loved the children’s side. The chairs were wooden. Some were captains’ chairs with arms. They were all around the long tables. None of the shelves were up very high. I remember the science fiction section had two of the tallest shelves. My other favorite shelves, the folklore shelves, were short, about to my waist. The librarian’s area was in the middle of the room and faced the door. The librarian was iconic. She was an older woman who wore a flowered dress and those old lady shoes with clunky heels. Her hair was in a bun. She didn’t tolerate noise or conversation. She’d shush us. At the desk, she’d take the books I wanted then stamp the due date on the sheet glued to the back page. I always brought my books back early. I didn’t want to risk the penny a day late fee.

I do like to read real books, to hold them in my hands. I like turning pages. I like seeing my progress, how many pages I have read and how many more I have to read. My iPad has many books. All of them were free to download. I go there when I have run out of paper books.

I loved when I traveled. Books were prized. In hostels books were a hot commonly to be traded. I used to hunt bookstores selling books in English. Mostly I’d find one in a big city. I’d carry the books in my backpack and read them on long trips in buses or trains. In Ghana, the official language is English. My town had a store which sold books. I bought several of the African Writers Series, one of each that they sold there. I sent them home. I read every one of them. I even chose Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe for my English classes, in Ghana and here. The University of Legon in Accra had a good bookstore. Just after I was sworn in as a volunteer and before I left to go upcountry to my town, I bought several books. They were a treasure trove. My town, Bolga, didn’t have much, but it did have a library. I always thought myself blessed.

Mother Nature did it to us again. I followed the snow predictions. I went from channel to channel and kept asking my Alexa and my Goggle. They all predicted snow and a heavy wind. I kept opening the back door checking for flakes. I swear I saw a couple around 2 am. When I woke up today, I let the dogs out right away. They are always insistent. I was expecting to see a snow covered deck. Nope, we got no snow. All the complaining was wasted.

When I was a kid, my mother almost always made my lunch. My school didn’t have a cafeteria. The only things sold were milk and candy. I always bought the milk and once in a while the candy. The milk was delivered to the classroom in one of those milk crates. The candy bars came in a lunchbox and was delivered a bit before lunch.

When I was in the eighth grade, I had the infamous Sister Hildegard. My desk was close to the front of the room. Almost every day, I watched Sister Hildegard. It was entertainment. I watched her open the candy box, browse through the choices and take a couple of bars. She’d hide them in a desk drawer. After lunch, I sometimes could hear paper crumbling. I’d watch Sister Hildegard hide her mouth with her hand, put something in her mouth then start chewing. She was eating the candy from the chocolate stash she’d taken from the lunch box. I think she believed we didn’t know. We all did. I remember going up to her desk to show her something. When she answered, she spit nuts on my paper. She knew I saw the chewed nuts so she quickly sent me back to my desk, but it was too late.

The other Sister Hildegard moments, common moments, were when she nodded off at her desk while we were working. She’d sit upright with eyes closed. We’d watch and chuckle quietly. She’d sometimes open her eyes, blankly look around then go back to sleep. That was another of many Sister Hildegard moments.

This is a quiet week for me. I have a few house chores, my usual uke practice and lesson and nothing else. I’m okay with quiet, maybe I’ll nod off

The clouds have that white grey color, a warning, snow’s coming. The wind is getting stronger, and the day is getting darker. The good news is the prediction is for far less snow than first thought, only 1-3 inches. That’s broom snow. We are all warm and cozy. The dogs are napping. Nala is leaning against me, her head resting on my hip. She sighs every now and then. Henry is curled into a ball on his cushion. Jack is sleeping on an afghan in front of the heater in his room. All’s right with our world.

My larder is full. I had my groceries delivered yesterday. The Amazon pet order also came yesterday minus dry dog food. It should come today. The Chewy order will be here in a couple of days. My beasties live well.

The other day I had a Ghana Deja Vu. I had finished my first cup of coffee and let the cup sit a little while before I went to get my second cup. I added fake sugar and cream to the coffee, carried the cup to the den and sat down. When I went to drink, I saw two dead bugs, gnats I think, floating in the cup. Bugs in food were a common occurrence in Ghana. I used to have to sift my flour, loaded with bugs. Some remained and we didn’t care. They were protein. When I saw the bugs in my coffee, I just picked them out. Dead bugs are harmless.

When I was a kid, I hunted grasshoppers in the field below my house. They’d jump in the air when I walked through the grass. I’d catch them with my hands and put them in a jar. Later, I’d release them. I didn’t swat or run screaming from bees. I remember a praying mantis in the bushes by the front steps. I watched it for a long time. I had already seen its movie, The Deadly Mantis, starring a giant bug, 200-foot-long and millions of years old. That one would have scared me. I’d be the one running and screaming. I’d probably be the one eaten. I can’t run all that fast or far.

My dance card is mostly empty for the week. I have my uke practice and lesson and nothing else. I’m just fine with that. I do idleness well.

Winter continues its dominance. I find myself checking the weather channel hoping for a change. It doesn’t come. The high today will be 18°. Snow showers start tonight, sort of a prelude for tomorrow’s storm. The amount of snow for tomorrow keeps changing. The last update was 2-4 inches with blizzard conditions from the wind.

I did my errands yesterday. The dogs are official. I just did a grocery delivery order filled with everything I need and some I don’t need. Now I hunker down.

My school in Ghana had a night watchman. He didn’t speak English. He spoke FraFra and Hausa, the language I was taught. He’d roam the grounds at no set time with his dog. He’d stay under the baobab tree. He had sort of a wooden lounge chair and always kept his lantern lit. Sometimes if I went to town I’d find the gate locked when I got to my school. I’d see his lit lantern from the gate. His dog barked. I’d yell, “Watchman, watchman,” over and over from the gate. His dog barking would get more frantic. The watchman never moved, never acknowledged me. I’d end up climbing the fence, not easy in a dress. I’d walk by him on the way to my house, his dog would bark, and he’d pretend he was asleep. Later, one of my students told me he heard me every time, but he didn’t want to get up to let me in. He wasn’t the best watchman. I became an adept fence climber in a dress.

When I was a kid, Saturday was the best day. It was all mine. In the summer I had almost unlimited choices as to what I could do. Most involved my bike. In the winter, the weather determined how I spent the day. Some Saturdays I went to the matinee. Most times I walked up town back and forth to the theater. My mother gave me enough money for my ticket and some candy or popcorn. First came previews of coming attractions then a cartoon. The Roadrunner was a favorite of mine. The movies were old, some even black and white, but we didn’t care. I even saw The Wizard of Oz there. I was thoroughly amazed when Dorothy landed over the rainbow, and it was all in color. The theater always had an undercurrent of noise, of kids talking. Candy flew mostly from the back seats. Jujubes were the missiles of choice. I never wondered why. They flew far, and they hurt when they landed. I remember Al, the owner of the theater, going up and down the center aisles trying to catch the miscreants, but it was dark, and he was always too late to catch anyone.

I think my sloth has a sloth.

I wish I could just stay inside and admire the day through the windows. It is a lovely day. The blue sky is just a bit lighter than cerulean. I don’t see a cloud. As to the temperature, we are possibly heading to record cold. It is 11°. The high will be 14°and the low 4°. More snow is coming. The cape will get more than most of the state. That’s what I’m dreaming of, more snow, said I never.

As I get older, I have come to appreciate the smaller things like a song I love on the radio, kisses from the dogs, thin onion rings, a good burger, red licorice and real Christmas trees. I watch videos of dogs being saved and adopted. I watch the antics of cats. I figure I’m now on the back side of my life, and I want joy and happiness. I wear blinders and ear plugs, the best way I know to get there.

I can hear my furnace constantly blowing. I’m wearing layers in the house. I love that Nala is lying against me keeping me warm or maybe I’m keeping her warm. She is a sly one.

.When I was a kid, my house had a furnace, a big black metal, round furnace on one wall of the cellar. On the same wall, next to the furnace, was a small window a bit bigger than the hose from the oil truck. It was always unlocked. I remember the oilman pulling and dragging the hose from the street to the window to the furnace. I remember the smell of the oil as he pumped. It seemed to fill the house and the cellar. This is an unexpected memory, one which seems to have settled into my memories all by itself. I am often amazed by what is in those memory drawers, by what pops out triggered by something familiar but forgotten. I think the cold is rattling those memory drawers and shaking out old, old memories from the way back, from cold, cold winters when even layering wasn’t enough.

I need to do two errands. I need to brave the cold. I need to layer. My mother taught me well.

I swear I saw a polar bear romping through my front yard. He was enjoying the snow and the cold though saying it is cold is an understatement. It is frigid. The days are mostly bearable, but the nights are down to single digits. Tomorrow will be the coldest, 17° during the day and -2 at night. Sunday will be a snowy day, and the cape could get the most. The wind will blow 40-60 miles per hour causing blizzard conditions. I really should have hibernated.

Today is a pretty day. I’m thinking it might be an apology from Mother Nature for what is to come. We have a blue sky and sun. A slight breeze moves a few dead leaves on the low branches and on the bare branches up high. The dogs are napping from the trauma of having to go out earlier. They are comfy.

When I was a little kid, the weather didn’t matter all that much. Life didn’t change. We walked to school in the rain, the snow and the cold. We walked fastest in the cold despite wearing layer upon layer of warm clothing starting with a sweater over my uniform then moving on to heavier clothing and finally my winter jacket. I complained and moaned a little as my mother was dressing me. I declined the hat. My mother just looked at me. Her face said NO in capital letters.

When I lived in Ghana, it was the heat. This time of year is the hottest, but it is a dry heat, a bearable heat even at 100°. I always wore a dress anyway as it was the custom of the times, but I didn’t mind. Dresses were the coolest clothes, as in temperature, not style. I took my cold shower every night, didn’t dry myself, threw on my ugly shower robe of sorts and rushed into the house and to bed before I dried so I could fall asleep feeling pseudo cool.

My dance card is empty except for a couple of errands I’ll do tomorrow. I will be a sloth today, the best sloth ever.

The dogs chose not to go out last night. Once I pushed the door open they each looked and backed into the kitchen. They are not dumb animals. This morning they had no choice. They peed in tandem then Henry ran a bit and Nala did her zoomies. Both are now sleeping on the couch. They are exhausted.

We have so much snow I will be hibernating. The spring robin and I will emerge when the world is warmer and the gardens have green shoots. My car is backed into the driveway and has been blocked by a mountain of plowed snow. I swear I heard someone singing about the hills being alive, the plowed mountain is that big.

I have no shovel and no snow blower. I had a plow guy who borrowed my shovel a couple of years ago, the last time he plowed for me. He just never came back, never called. He still has my shovel.

My muse has left for sunnier climes. One of my students posted a comment that Bolga is hot, hot, hot (her words). She wants snow. I want hot. Too bad we can’t trade at least for a little while.

Because the snow has me housebound, I am left me yet again to my own devices. I could clean (oh, the horror), read or watch movies, but that is what I have been doing for the last few days. I need diversions. Maybe I’ll just join the dogs on the couch if they’ll let me.

I have not been baiting the mouse hotels for the last couple of days. I don’t want to catch any. I can’t relocate them with the snow covering everything, and I won’t dispatch them to their heavenly rewards. They get a couple of free days.

In January 1969, on a Sunday, I got a special delivery letter congratulating me on being selected for the Peace Corps. I would be going to Ghana. I had to look in an atlas to pinpoint where Ghana is in Africa. I knew nothing about it. The pages I found told me imports and exports, major crops, currency, topography, social hierarchy, climate and major cities. Ghana was reduced to a couple of geography classes. At staging, before we left, I saw slides of Ghana. I was still caught in the pages of a geography book. To complete the scene, I just needed a nun in front reminding us to pay attention and be quiet.

I have found an old black and white science fiction movie from 1951, Lost Continent. Right now they have just climbed an obviously fake mountain to the top looking for their wayward rocket. They lost one man on the climb. I guess I’ll keep a head count. At the top of the mountain is a strange world. Everything is green, even the dinosaurs.

The snow started around 9 with small flakes. They are still falling but more quickly. I procrastinated the last couple of days so I had to go out this morning. I dreaded it, but the dogs needed food as did Jack. They better be thankful. What surprised me was how few a number of cars I saw. At the store where I usually shop, the parking lot was pretty much empty. Four registers were open but idle. I sailed through. I did reward myself with a scone and a Snickers. The dogs got their biscuits. They always do from this store. They circle me like vultures while I’m carrying the bags. They look like baby birds in the nest waiting to be fed. Their mouths are open anticipating their treats, their biscuits. It is not a pretty sight. The scone is gone.

I can’t remember when I was last delighted by so much anticipated snow. When I was a kid, to me, snow was about the best weather of all weathers. I loved that from the front picture window in the living room I could see my part of the street and parts of two other streets. The street light was on the corners of two streets. It lit the road and the sidewalk. The light was best in rain or snow. I remember watching heavy rain slanted sideways by the wind passing through the light. The snow sometimes glinted under the light. The heavy snow made everything look shadowed. That snow usually came sideways. The bigger flakes, not the biggest flakes, fell the longest and the most. The street light cover would get lost in the snow, even its heat was not strong enough to ward off the cold. When I went to bed, the snow was falling so thickly you couldn’t see too much. Some mornings it was still snowing. Some windows were covered in icy snow so you couldn’t see out. We used to open the storm door, pushing it through the snow, so we could an idea of how much snow fell. We waited for no school. We drove my mother crazy begging to go outside. By afternoon she was done in and we went outside and froze.

My father used a metal shovel to clear the snow from the steps down the sidewalk to the street. It was the same shovel he used to dig holes or move dirt. It wasn’t very big. My father always took a while, but he cleared the paths and the steps down so deeply you could see what had been under the snow. The rest was up to the plows. He had done his duty.

I’ll leave my backdoor light on tonight. I can keep an eye on the storm. The dogs too like to check out the snow from inside the house. It will be a quiet, cozy night.

Today is a dull, winter’s day with a muted sun, clouds and only a few spots of blue. It is in the mid-30’s. The deep Arctic front starts this evening when it will get down to single digits, think 7° as the high. Monday will be the warmest day, says I with tongue in cheek, at 37° with a nighttime high of 18°. I did mean high!

Snow is coming, not just cover the ground snow, but historic snow, enough snow for constant weather warnings and updates. It seems the exact amount of snow changes with the hour. It starts Sunday and will continue through Monday. The cape is predicted to get 6-12 inches but the snow could mix with rain here by the ocean. Boston wins the predicted amount of snow crown, 12-20 possible. I’ve been channel hopping, looking around hoping to find the weather site with the least amount of predicted snow. Maybe hoping will make it so. I can live deluded for one snow storm.

I can predict my future. I know for certain what the next few days will be for me. After today, I will stay home, warm and cozy. I’ll start a new book as I just finished the latest Robin Cook, a Christmas present. I’ll loll on the couch. I’ll eat bon bons and sip champagne. ( Make that last one a wish, the bon bons and champagne.)

My sister and brother-in-law Rod surprised me yesterday. They have been surprising me for a while. When I ran out of coffee, they sent me a large bag, 18 ounces large, of coffee. When my coffee maker developed a mind of its own as to whether or not it wanted to work, they sent me a new coffee maker. Yesterday was a package from Harry and David with chocolate, cheese and sausages. I’m calling that the start of my snow preparation kit.

My family and friends have taken care of me this winter. Thank you, all of you.

I am going to make a quick trip to the grocery store. I can think of no better way to spend my time than fighting crowds at the milk aisle. I need animal food, mostly dry dog food. I didn’t buy a big enough bag on Sunday. Jack, too, would like a bigger variety of canned food. He didn’t eat the prix fixe menu of fish he was offered the last couple of days. He ate the bowl of treats both days. Jack knows the way of the world.

When I was a kid, I would have been positively elated, even giddy, at the thought of this much snow. No question, Monday will be a snow day, and Tuesday too looks likely. My mother must have been beside herself.