The sun is just breaking out. There is a breeze which ruffles the leaves, but it is already hot and humid. It will be an ugly day.

Maddie and Henry are asleep. I’d like to join them as I’m tired. For some reason of late my sleep is filled with dreams which I tell myself to remember, but mostly I don’t. A couple are offshoots of what I’ve watched on TV except I’m part of the action. Last night I was in the Middle East.

Acorns keep falling off the trees and bouncing on the deck. One end of the deck is filled with them though the deck was cleared on Friday. Wearing something on my feet is a necessity.

When I was a kid, most of the stores were closed. The only ones open were the small corner stores like the Red Store and the White Store ( I never knew them by name, only by color) near my house. I don’t remember any particular celebrations. I don’t even remember if we had barbecues. What I do remember is taking my night before school starts bath and laying out my clothes. The opening day was one of the two days I didn’t have to wear a uniform so we always had new clothes for the day. I readied my new school bag, and I put my new pencil box inside it. My mother made lunch and packed it in my new lunch box. When I was young, the lunch box had characters on it like Annie Oakley. When I got older, it had colors and patterns. I remember one in a black and red tartan scheme.

This is from a previous post, “The real meaning of Labor Day has been blurred. It was first celebrated in the early 1880’s as a day to honor laborers, “who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold.” The first states to recognize the day were Massachusetts, Oregon, New York, Colorado and New Jersey. It became a holiday in 1884 and was a day for parades and speeches, all meant to honor workers and the contributions of the American labor movement.”  Perhaps it’s time to bring back the real meaning of Labor Day!

Today is another beautiful day. It will be the last for a bit as the heat and humidity are  returning tomorrow. We’re talking 90’s again and air conditioning. Mother Nature did it. She lulled me into a false sense of fall by the last couple of days.

I have a few errands today. One is to the farm stand, and that one is my favorite. I get to buy all those wonderful fresh vegetables and more salsa chips. I know that last one sounds strange, but the stand does sell the best tasting chips.

Today is sunny and bearably warm. The Sox are playing a day game. I’ll be watching.

I prefer swimming in fresh water more than salt which is a bit ironic given where I live. I like the beach, the sandy part, and I like watching the waves. I chuckle at the seagulls.

My mother made the best brownies. She made them from ingredients, not a box. She always iced them in chocolate frosting and use jimmies for an added touch. I never ate just one of those brownies.

Yesterday I planted the flowers in the deck pots. Now I just need to plant the two remaining flowers in my front garden. A couple of them have bloomed. The flowers are purple and puffy looking.

Charlie Baker, the governor, is running for re-election. He is quite popular here even though he is a republican. I like that people in Massachusetts vote the person not the party, but I am already sick of Charlie Baker. His ads are all over the place. I can’t watch a youTube video without him popping up first. The same ad is on TV over and over. He does have an opponent in the primary, but I have no idea who it is. I doubt anyone knows so pull back those ads, Charlie.

I haven’t baked in a while. I use my oven as an extra cabinet for storing mostly crackers and cereal so when I use the oven it has to be cleared first. Once I missed something in the back, and it turned all black from the preheating. Now I always double check.

I read an article which discussed which was correct: dwarfs or dwarves. I would figure dwarfs was and there is no reason for the change in form to dwarves. It seems “dwarves” was coined by Tolkien about 80 years ago to give his dwarves a dignity that dwarfs could hardly attain. So successful have his stories been that “dwarves” seems to be superseding “dwarfs” as the regular plural of “dwarf”,  but don’t worry: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs will stay the same.

Today is already horribly different than yesterday. The house was 76˚ by ten this morning. When I went to get the papers, I was assaulted by the heat. I didn’t even stop to admire my garden. The air conditioner is working its little heart out to cool the house. Today will be a run from the air conditioned house to the air conditioned car as I have a couple of errands. I have finally started the laundry. It stayed in the hall for days, and I couldn’t stand looking at it any more.

Yesterday was a wonderful day. I sat on the deck all afternoon reading and munching on fresh nacho chips from the farm stand and mango-pineapple salsa. As it got dark, I started a fire in my chiminea. It wasn’t really cold out, but there was a breeze. I loaded the chiminea with piñon wood. The aroma was wonderful. I figured the neighborhood could probably smell it as the breeze took the smoke northward. I stayed outside until the wood was mere embers.

I have favorite smells. One of my favorites is the smell of wood charcoal burning. That is the smell I remember the most from Ghana. The Ghanaians cooked outside over small fires of wood charcoal. It was the first smell of the morning and the last of the evening. Before I bought my gas grill, I had a charcoal grill. I always used wood charcoal instead of the briquets just for the aroma. The Christmas tree is my next favorite. During the Christmas season I love getting down the stairs to the living room in the morning because I get to smell the wonderful pine of the tree which permeates the whole downstairs. My long ago favorite smell was the leaves during the fall. On Saturdays, the lawns were raked and the leaves piled in the road next to the sidewalks. There were piles up and down the street each guarded by a rake wielding father from the neighborhood. The smoke from those piles wafted in the air all blown in the same direction by the wind.

Fresh bread, coffee brewing and turkey baking are some of the best kitchen smells. I remember Gracie and the cat used to sit in front of the oven when the turkey was baking. They had high hopes because they knew I’d give each of them pieces of turkey every time I had some myself.

My den now has a bit of a dog smell from Henry. That never happened with any of my other dogs. I’ve bought a cleaner for the couch, but I haven’t yet gotten enough energy to clean the couch cushions. Remember, my laundry sat in the hall for days.

I love these mornings. My den, my favorite place in the house and the room where I spend a good portion of my time, is still chilly from the night air. The sun hasn’t worked its way around to this side of the house yet. Today’s high temperature will in the 70’s and the low will be tonight in the high 50’s. That sounds like an ideal day to me.

Today is Women’s Equality Day celebrating the 1920 passage of the Nineteenth Amendment. When I was growing up, I never knew women had once been denied the right to vote. My mother alway had the right to vote but not my grandmothers. I was so impatient waiting for the first time I could vote, and twenty-one just seemed so away. When it finally came, I remember going to the town hall on my birthday to register. My first vote went to Hubert Humphrey for president in 1968. I am proud of having chosen Humphrey. I always vote, even in the smallest town elections. It is a gift, the right to vote, and one I never take lightly.

August is the month of birthdays in my family. My favorite uncle, my niece, my sister and I share the month. It is also the month my mother was born. Every August 13th I wish her a happy birthday and let her know how much she is missed by all of us. This year she would have been 91. My memory drawers are filled with pictures and memories of my mother and me.

Life is really a quilt of moments sewn together without any thought to design, color or shape. The whiff of a familiar smell or the shape of a hand or the color of a shirt brings back a moment and connects us with an experience, never forgotten but seldom recalled. We hear a few notes from a long ago song, and, with a whoosh, the rest of the experience comes roaring into our memories and floods us with all the people and places forever connected to that song, memories we had shelved. The smell of a pie transports me to a small kitchen at 16 Washington Ave and the baking mitt on my mother’s hand. All of a sudden I’m remembering Thanksgiving and Christmas and cinnamon and sugar cookies, all triggered by the memory of my mother wearing that mitt and pulling a shelf from the oven.

The morning is again lovely. A breeze is keeping the predicted heat at bay for a while although I can already feel it in the air. The sky has a few clouds so the sun hides for a bit but it always returns.

Saturday has always been the best day. When I was a kid, it meant no school and a day to do whatever I wanted. Any homework was pushed off until Sunday. Even when I was a teacher it was the same. Saturday was my day for me. Sunday was prepare lessons, do chores and go to the dump day. On Saturday I could stay up as late as I wanted. On Sunday it was early to bed to get ready for Monday. It is no wonder Sunday and Monday were not on my list of favorite days.

Ghana was a little bit different. I did use Sunday to prepare lessons for Monday, but that was all I did. My students had a service of sorts on Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon was visiting day. Any student expecting a visitor was dressed in her finest cloth in a three piece outfit which included not only a top and bottom but also a wrap around the waist. This is the same wrap mothers used to carry babies on their backs. Photographers were hired and pictures were taken, always in black and white. Many students gifted me with a picture. They seldom smiled. I always wrote their names on the back. Mostly I stayed home on Sunday unless it was market day. Students without company came to visit. They stayed for only a while. By late afternoon, visiting was over.

Peapod arrived so I had to take a break, but I have just finished putting my groceries away. I indulge myself with no guilt. Thursday the house was cleaned. Yesterday the lawn was mowed. I’d pay for the trash man to come, but I’d have to haul barrels from the back to the front going and coming so I’ll save the effort and the money and keep going to the dump. It was always a fun ride for Miss Gracie and maybe it will be the same some day for Henry.

What a beautiful morning! The sun is shining. The air is still, and, best of all, the humidity has disappeared, but this dry air, this reprieve, will be short-lived. Sticky air will be back early next week.

When I went to get the papers, I saw a brown rabbit munching on the grass. He stopped when he heard me but stayed put. He started eating again when I went into the house. Two red squirrels were chasing each other from tree trunk to tree trunk. I could hear a chorus of cicadas. It seems all of us are celebrating today.

I’m on the deck figuring I’ll take in as much of this lovely air as I can. The only sounds are the birds and some cars going down the street. Henry came out but went back inside. I’m noticing some of the flowers in the clay pots need to be replaced. I noticed the garden center is having an end of season sale so I figure I’ll buy the four replacement plants I need. I don’t know why those plants died because the others are flourishing. I need to fill the feeders.

The foliage around the deck is so lush I can only catch glimpses of the houses around me. It is as if I am living on a tropical island. To further the illusion, I can pretend the sounds of the cars are the waves hitting shore. I am alone out here, no people sounds.

There is a bit of a breeze. If one is ever to be found, my deck will always have it. This breeze is from the south. The red, white and blue pinwheel stuck into a big flower pot is turning so quickly all its colors are combined into a blur.

Last night all the newly strung lights were lit. Strands of white lights are across the yard gate and lead to the big star on the outside of the fence near the door. The spawn of Satan’s lights are no longer clear, maybe no longer a target. The new string is red, white and blue and is on the back end of the deck rail. Every other set of lights strung there has been chewed by the spawns. The last set of big white bulbs had many wire pieces missing. I’m guessing there are spawn nests somewhere with light bulbs as decorations and pieces of the missing grill cover for the roof and inside insulation. That is the summer conundrum. Where in the heck was that grill cover dragged and by how many spawns working in tandem?

Mother Nature was piqued at all the complaining about the sun, heat and humidity so she struck back. She took away the sun and left us with cloudy, rainy days and, for added discomfort, she threw in more humidity. Everything felt sticky so I put my air conditioner on to dry the house. It helped but I don’t need it today. I’m thinking Mother Nature must be in a forgiving mood as it is sunny and dry and even a bit chilly when the wind blows. I love today.

Yesterday I treated myself to a me sort of day. I did get the pet food, but I also bought a really neat wooden rocking chair for the deck. The rocker part slides. I then went to the farm store and bought corn, wild Maine blueberries and fresh figs. Next, I took the ocean side road from one town to another. I even snapped some pictures. My last stop was for Thai food. It was dinner last night and will be again tonight. It was a wonderful day.

Skip, my factotum, is here to finish sanding and painting the hole in the bathroom wall upstairs. Henry barked and then howled when the doorbell rang. Skip later came downstairs, and Henry growled and didn’t stop growling until Skip left and went back upstairs. That is a new protective move from Henry.

The summer is winding down. Fewer cars are on the road. I don’t have to wait impatiently for lights to change before I move. Getting into traffic is much easier. My last play is tomorrow night. But I’m okay with this change in seasons. Fall on Cape Cod is lovely. The days are still warm. The nights are wonderful for sleeping. The sky is such an amazing blue it takes my breath away. The ocean is still warm. The cranberries are nearly ripe. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to see some bogs harvested. I can still sit on the deck during the day, and at night I can light my chiminea. I’m looking forward to the smell of the piñon wood. I’m thinking it’s near time to take out my sweatshirts.