The rains started during the night, and it is still heavily raining. The lights are on as it is so dark here in the house. Henry went out and came back in soaked. I tried to towel him off, but he would have nothing to do with it. My friends are visiting. We first met in Philadelphia for what is called Peace Corps staging, the time before any groups leave for in country. During that time before Ghana, we got shots, met with a psychologist, had our teeth checked and attended lectures and slide shows about Ghana. The lectures were boring so Bill, Peg and I decided to check out the historical sites and the art museum. Nobody noticed we were missing. We had no guilt.

We went for a ride down cape yesterday. That means we drove toward P-Town. Up cape means towards the bridge. We never talk of directions here. East and west mean nothing. We went down cape to Wellfleet center. It is a delightful collection of small shops in really old buildings. There are no chain stores, not even a chain grocery market. We left the center and took a road I’ve never been on. It had a yellow line so I figured it had to go somewhere. Most of the sides of the road were desolate and lined with the tall trunks of dead trees. There were no houses. It wasn’t until toward the end of the road that we saw mailboxes. The houses were off the road and difficult to see. The road ended at the Mid-Cape, Route 6 to those of you unfamiliar with local lingo.

Peg brought last night’s dinner and dessert including my favorite, lemon meringue pie. The chicken was delicious, but the highlight was kelewele, my favorite Ghanaian dish. The rest of dinner was rice and green beans. I filled my plate, and it was totally empty except for the chicken bone when I’d finished. Tonight is my turn for dinner, and we’re having chili with butternut squash. I hope it is as good as dinner last night!

It’s time to finish and have a piece of pie for lunch.

Today is another rainy, dark day. Everything is damp. The humidity is thick, but today is cooler than yesterday so it’s more bearable. The sun did appear for a little while in the afternoon, but not even close to long enough to be appreciated. Today is dump day. I always think of Gracie who loved going to the dump.

When I was a kid, the trashman came once a week as did the milkman and the garbageman. I remember the sound of the glass bottles clicking together in the wire holder the milkman carried from his truck. Besides the white milk, my mother always got one bottle of chocolate milk. We never drank it straight but rather mixed it with the white. I think that’s the reason I am not so fond of white milk. The garbage man carried his own bucket held by his hand on his back. His clothes were always dirty. I used to wonder if he smelled bad all the time. The trash barrels were put on the sidewalk outside our house by my father on trash day. The trash truck slowly followed the trash men along the side of the road so they could empty the barrels into the back of the truck. They’d empty the barrels then throw them back to the sidewalk. Most of the barrels landed on their sides and would sometimes roll into the street. My father picked up the barrels when he got home from work and put them into the cellar. He complained about the trashmen and the barrels.

We all remember the ice cream man, but my favorite was the knife sharpener man. He rode a bicycle. The front of it had a grindstone, and the man would pedal to keep the grindstone moving. My mother would send one of us out with a knife or two and a pair of scissors. I liked to watch him. He didn’t come all that often. The paper and rag man had a horse and wagon. I remember him coming because of the horse, but I was young when he stopped coming.

The mailman came very day and twice a day at Christmas time. He slid the mail through the slot on our front door. We used to take turns opening the Christmas cards. There were so many back then. I remember how much fun it was getting and opening all those cards. I think that’s why I still send cards.

The mailman is the only one left

The wind is blowing, the sky is rain gray and it is already damp. The storm should start this afternoon and stay through tomorrow. My house was really cold this morning so I turned on the heat and put on my sweatshirt. I’m comfortable now and have turned off the heat. I’ve even taken off my sweatshirt.

Henry had a milestone this morning. He barked when the Peapod truck pulled up out front, his usual warming when he hears a noise. I opened the door to watch. Henry watched with me. That is the first time he did not run to his safe spot, the couch. He even stood in the hall and watched the driver bring in the bags.

When I was a kid, our dog Duke, a boxer, was totally protective of us. My brother used to go camping with his friends, and he’d bring Duke, but he had to tie him as Duke’d go home if he were loose. Once some bigger kids were harassing them and Duke was barking. My brother told those kids he’d let the dog loose unless they left. They made the wise decision and left. I remember during a storm Duke was looking out the front door and barking and barking. He even jumped on the door. We looked outside and saw a guy walking. Duke really wanted out to go after that guy. We shut the door as Duke was strong enough to go through it.

Yesterday was my busiest day in a long time. I repotted the new plants I had bought, all four of them. I brought up the storm doors from the cellar. They were so heavy I could only move one at a time one step at a time. They were also awkward, and I don’t do well with awkward. I was especially careful. I washed the windows then replaced the screens with them. They were heavy to lift onto the doors, but I managed. That laundry bag is only a memory. I did two loads of wash, brought the wash upstairs and put it away. That’s a new record for me. Usually the clean laundry sits on the couch a while. The only thing I didn’t do was hang the new bird feeders. That’s now today’s chore.

After I finish with the bird feeders, I’m going to do nothing but read. I earned a sloth day.

Henry woke me up this morning. I could hear him gnawing on something. His past chewing episodes of gnawing on the floor, the foot of the bed, the spread and the down comforter made me jump up to find out what he was doing. Down was on the bedroom floor. Henry had gnawed another hole and he can pull down from even the smallest hole. I also found a stone, its origins unknown, but it was wet so Henry had been chewing on that too. I have been planning to buy a new comforter. The one on my bed is so old it has permanent clumps and doesn’t keep me warm enough. Now I’m thinking twice about that.

My house was cold when I woke up. The sun was out, mostly for show, but it is gone now and has been replaced by clouds. It is an ugly day.

Today is chore day. I have house plants to repot, new bird feeders to fill and put outside, storm doors to clean and hang and, finally, laundry to do. The bag is still sitting by the cellar door. I have to go down cellar anyway to get the storm doors so I might as well do the laundry.

When I was a kid, I had no chores. I had to put my dirty laundry in the hamper, but that was about it. My mother did everything. I never really gave it much thought. That was just how it was. My brother had to empty baskets, and he complained all the time that he was put upon. My mother did laundry just about every day. Her washing machine was a wringer so the chore was never easy. She didn’t have a dryer. She had inside and outside lines. I think if I had to do laundry my mother’s way the bag would sit by the cellar door until I ran out of clothes. The hall would fill. I’d have to walk around the bags.

I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I attended a birthday party for my grandnephew. It started at eleven, and I stayed later than I thought I would. I just got home.

Today is a chilly day. It is cloudy, damp and humid. Not even the smallest breeze is blowing. When I went by a couple of ponds, I was struck by the stillness. Today is a day best spent indoors.

I finished a book last night and have yet to start another. I have stacks of books upstairs by my bed and some more books down here on the table. I’ll hunt through to find my next read.

Some toys transcend time. Bicycles come to mind first. I remember my first bike. I remember seeing it by the Christmas tree. The kickstand was down. The bike took up one whole side of the tree. There was a ribbon on the handle bars. My sled was wooden. It was a Radio Flyer with metal runners and a super-steering mechanism at the front which had one hole on each side where the rope was so we could haul the sled back up the hill. My brother had a Radio Flyer wagon, a red classic wagon with a handle you used to pull it. I had a Ginny doll. It came with beautiful clothes and some furniture including a bed and wardrobe. Most of my friends also had Ginny dolls. Our first board games were Chutes and Ladders and Candy Land. I think they were everyone’s first games.

Kids still get bicycles only now the bikes come in heights. Many of the bikes have training wheels. Our bikes were one size, tall, and had no training wheels. Wooden sleds have been crowded out by saucers, plastic toboggans and snow tubes. Red Flyer wagons, though, look the same even now and are still part of the childhoods of kids today. I gave my grandnephew his first Red Flyer wagon today.

Today is the first day of fall. It is my favorite season though I admit I waffle between spring and fall. Summer and winter are extremes. Spring and fall are beginnings.

When I was a kid, fall had rituals of a sort. Saturday was when every father in the neighborhood raked leaves then burned them. I remember my father wore a woolen red jacket, his rake the leaves sort of uniform. I remember the sounds of those rakes scratching against the ground. My father had a method. He’d rake in one area and make a pile then move to a different area and make another pile. Eventually he’d join the piles and rake them to the street gutter. Once the pile was in the gutter he’d set it afire. I’d stand not too close and watch the flames. The air was filled with smoke, with the aroma of those leaves burning. There were fires up and down the street. I loved that my clothes smelled of fire and leaves for the longest time.

The grill went to the cellar in fall. It was time for Saturday night’s hot dogs, baked beans and brown bread. Sunday dinner became a big deal again. My mother baked a chicken or a pork roast. Once in a while it was a roast beef or a roasta beef as my grandmother called it. Mashed potatoes were always on the menu as were canned vegetables of some sort.

I loved walking to school in fall. The sidewalk was almost an arbor with its ceiling of trees and branches. Fallen leaves covered the sidewalk. I’d kick the leaves as I walked.

Wax paper and leaves and fall are a wonderful memory. We’d put the leaves between two layers of wax paper then iron the paper. The yellow and red leaves always stayed bright. I’d keep those treasures as a reminder of fall when winter came.

It is time for my flannel shirts, my wool clogs and my corduroy pants, my cold weather clothes.

Last night I tossed and turned for hours. I stopped looking at the clock. It was depressing to see the time pass. Finally I felt into a restless sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable and kept waking up to rearrange myself. Henry wanted out around eight so I went downstairs and let him out then crawled back into bed hoping to fall asleep. I did and didn’t wake up until close to 12:30. I had my coffee and read the Globe. That was my morning. It is now my afternoon.

When I was a kid, I hated being forced to go to bed. Some mornings I hated being woken up for school. I remember my mother used to shout up the stairs to get us awake. We’d try to ignore her, but that never worked. We’d slowly make our way downstairs to the kitchen. Breakfast was usually on the table. It was sometimes cereal, hot or cold, sometimes a soft boiled egg with cut toast for dunking and other times it was just toast and cocoa.

When I was in college, I hated early morning classes. Sometimes I’d sleep through them and miss one. Other times I’d get to class, but I’d nod off and only catch myself when my head would droop. Back then I was a night person.

In Ghana I turned into an early morning person. My bedtimes were never late. There was no TV to watch so I’d read a bit before turning off the light. I think I was in bed by nine. Roosters often woke me up, but if they didn’t, the students did. They swept the compound every morning and I heard the swishing outside my window. I didn’t mind as the mornings were my favorite time of the day.

On my trips back to Ghana, old habits surfaced quickly. I was in bed early after reading a while. The only difference was I read my iPad instead of a book. A rooster crowed outside my window most mornings and woke me up. That gave me smile.

At a store in Hyannis, I bought a wooden rooster which crows when you press its head down. The sound is exactly a rooster. I let the rooster crow just about every morning. I love that toy.

Last last night (or early this morning, I never know which to choose) it poured. I don’t even know if rain was expected. I just know everything is soaked, and dirty paw prints are a trail across my kitchen floor from the back door. Today is still cloudy and damp, but I opened a couple of windows anyway.

My laundry bag is back to leaning on the cellar door. This time, though, the load is small which may prompt me to take it down to the washer faster than usual.

Henry likes Maddie. She has a cyst which was drained but has returned so Henry laps it clean. Maddie often, at her peril, stands under the dog between his legs. She gets knocked down occasionally. Henry is puppy careless.

I used to check the news every day on MSNBC. I don’t any more. Nothing changes. It only worsens.

Today is one of those nothing in my head days. I haven’t been out this week so I can’t complain about traffic. I suppose I could grumble about the rainy weather, but that just seems so commonplace, so trite. Everybody complains about the weather. I’m just stuck.

My mother made a great apple pie. My father liked it with a slice of cheddar on top. I like it plain. I know some people like it with vanilla ice-cream, but I am in the pie and cake must be separate from the ice cream camp. Either have ice cream or pie but not both together.

I buy specialty coffee like African Gold, and I use light cream. I do love my coffee. In Ghana, I had instant coffee and evaporated milk. I complained then tolerated then stopped noticing how god-awful it was. I even had a couple or more mugs a day. Bolga had cows even back then. Peace Corps warned us not to drink the milk. I think it had to do with bovine tuberculosis.

On my last trip to Ghana, my friend Peg brought coffee in bag form like tea bags. It was so superior to the instant but then we had to use the yellowish evaporated milk. It even looked gross.

I have been back to Ghana three times. I’d like one last trip in 2021, fifty years since I finished Peace Corps service. I love going back to Ghana. My friends Bill and Peg have been back twice. They love Ghana as much as I do. I know a couple of guys who went back this year with their wives, their first time back. I have two Peace Corps friends uninterested in going to Ghana again. One doesn’t want new memories to overwrite the wonderful memories of her two years there. The other said there was no reason to go back. I feel sorry for him.

The back rooms of my house are always dark and cool in the morning. I have to turn on the lamp in the den to read the papers. The cat sticks her head under the lamp shade, her way of  staying warm. When she comes to get patted, the fur on her head is always hot to the touch. Henry doesn’t care whether it’s hot or cold. He goes out, comes back inside and falls asleep on the couch.

When I was a kid, the living room was the coolest room in the house all summer. My mother kept the shades down. It was also the darkest room.

I have a stash of Necco candy: Necco wafers, tropical wafers, a box of Clark Bars and a box of Sky Bars. I know better than to open any package. I used to have two packages of Clark Bars.

My brother-in-law Rod shared his chili recipe with me. It said beans were an optional ingredient. I never have beans in mine. I hate beans. Rod always has beans in his. I told him no beans was more traditional. We still go back and forth on that. I told him I had proof.  “The ICS (The International Chili Society) defines traditional red and green chili as “any kind of meat or combination of meats, cooked with red chili peppers, various spices and other ingredients, with the exception of beans and pasta which are strictly forbidden. No garnish is allowed.” Rod said that was only one opinion.

I have to go out today. Henry needs dog food. He still insists on eating every day.

Today is another lovely day. Rain is expected tomorrow. After that it will get cooler, even as low as the high 50’s at night. The autumnal equinox is in five days, but that really doesn’t change anything. The calendar doesn’t determine the weather.

I am down to my last book.  I’ve put a trip to the library on my dance card.