Keep the Coffee Comimg

The weather has settled into May. The days are in the 50’s and the nights down to the 40’s. The sun is shining and the sky is a lovely blue. It is warmer outside than here in the house. That’s the way it is this time of year. The heat is on for just a bit.

Everything is still. Even the new leaves on the ends of the oak branches aren’t moving. My neighborhood is quiet. All I hear are bird songs.

The other night I heard what first sounded like a weird bird song. I listened a while and then recognized a turkey gobbling. It was close but the sound faded as the turkey moved. It finally got too far away to hear.

My sister and I were talking about our town square. She remembers buying popcorn, and I remember the smell of it popping. Behind the stores was a small candy factory. I don’t remember anything about it except for that wondrous smell wafting through the square.

The popcorn conversation moved easily into Jiffy Pop. We both remembered the aluminum foil getting taller and taller as the corn popped. We also remembered that you had to keep shaking the pan or the corn would burn. We used to take turns shaking it. The buttery popcorn was worth the work.

Henry ate my cozy pants yesterday. He was upstairs when I left to do errands so I let him stay here. When I got home, I went to change. My cozy pants which I had thrown over the bottom of the bed when I got dressed were wet around the waist. I held them up and saw a big hole right above one leg. On the bed I found remnants of blue cloth, chewed remnants. Henry had found a way to keep busy. Today the gate is across the stairs.

I found a few more holes in my little library. I thought that would end with the death of one bird caught inside with the books. There must be something about the wood attracting the birds. I’m going to cover the new holes later, a stop gap solution. When I can, I’m going to the hardware store to find wood putty or something like it to fill in the holes. You’d think the birds would be more thankful given the feeders I fill with seed.

A holly tree is growing in the rough area outside my backyard fence. Some bird must have dropped seeds there. I only noticed the seedling when I was checking out the leaning fence, the section needing a new post. The tree is small but healthy looking with bright, shiny leaves. It is in a perfect spot for a tree.

I missed a meeting this morning. I forgot to put it on my calendar. That is so not me. I do have physical therapy later. That’s on the calendar.

The house was cold this morning. I had left my bedroom window open. It got down to the middle 50’s last night so I snuggled under my comforter. I checked the thermostat when I came downstairs, and it was only 62˚ in here. My heat, which had been off since May 1st, was turned on again, and the furnace started blasting hot air right away. Once the house was warm, I turned off the heat. It’s May after all.

When I was a kid, my school had an annual May procession. Every grade took part. The second graders wore their first communion white. The rest of the girls wore fancy dresses and the boys wore jackets and ties. We walked around the long block from the playground near the church to the front of the church. Parents lined the sidewalks. When I was in the eighth grade, I crowned the statue of Mary, the culminating May procession tradition. The statue was high in a niche in the grotto to the side of the church. I was last in the procession. I wore my neighbor’s wedding dress. I stopped to pose for pictures. Once we were at the grotto, we all sang songs to Mary, “Mary we crown thee with blossoms today, queen of the angels, queen of the May.” I remember all the songs. We practiced them for weeks before the procession. I stood by the grotto rail until it was time for me to go up the ladder to the statue. I held the bannister with one hand and the crown with the other. It was tricky as the dress was long. One of the priests help me up the ladder. When the time came, I placed the flower crown on Mary’s head then carefully went down the ladder. It wasn’t long after that the procession was over. We broke ranks and went to find our parents. I stopped to pose for pictures.

Today is cloudy. It is warmer outside than the house was. Male goldfinches were at the feeders as was a spawn of Satan. It was holding on to the outside of the feeder trying to get the seed inside. I scared it away and wished I had a sling shot.

Yesterday I went to the dump. I waited until the last minute hoping the rain would have stopped, but it was still raining. I did feel accomplished after I’d dumped everything. I need a few essentials like bread, dry dog food and canned cat food so I’ll be heading out in a bit.

When I was a kid, my mother often sent me to the store for one thing or another. Usually it was milk or bread. I rode my bike. The white store was just a bit closer, but it didn’t have anywhere near the amount of groceries the red store did. I remember walking into the red store and seeing, right in front, the Hostess display. My favorites were Hostess cupcakes and Sno-balls. Mostly the Sno-balls were pink. I’d pull off the frosting in a single  piece and eat the cupcake first. The coconut on the frosting was my favorite part.

I’m thinking that Hostess came to mind because I need to do an errand. Looks like I’m be buying more than bread.

Summer is gone. Today is chilly and damp. We’re back to sweatshirt weather. Rain is predicted, but the clouds seem too bright. I suppose they’ll darken later.

There is something about Sunday mornings which holds me in thrall. I take my time getting up. As the coffee brews, I watch the birds at the feeders from inside the kitchen window. Henry goes out, and I go get the Sunday papers, come back inside, grab a cup of coffee and then start my reading fest. After a bit, it’s time for my weekly call to my sister in Colorado. We often talk during the week, but Sunday is our day nonetheless. We talk an hour sometimes. When we’re done, I grab a cup of coffee and go back to my papers. By the time I sit down to my computer, it’s nearly one o’clock. I am always surprised by the time.

I watch TV, not as much as Chance the Gardener, but I watch. I also bitch and moan. Even with a zillion stations, I sometimes find nothing to watch. HGTV is one of my stations of last resort. I’ve watched so much I can now throw around phrases like curb appeal, focal point and window treatment. I know to look for hardwood floors, a master suite, stainless steel, tile and granite or its ilk. Mirrors will make the room look bigger. Neutral colors are best.

I always think spring smells fresh like the air after a rainstorm. Summer is flowers and grass. Fall will always be burning leaves. Winter smells are all inside. They’re Christmas and cookies and dinner in the oven. Sometimes the wonderful smell of the ocean makes it as far as my house. Usually it comes in the morning air. I can smell rain long before the first drops fall, and I swear snow has a smell that comes with that eerie light just before a storm. I love the smell of burning candles. Last night it was cinnamon and before that it was coconut. My sister gave me small squares of peat and a stone block to hold the burning embers. I was reminded of the old b&b in Youghal Ireland. It was springtime and cold and damp. We were the only guests. The owner lit a peat fire in the grate in the dining room. The smell of peat filled the room. It stuck to my clothes. I could smell it even when I got home and opened my suitcase. The smell of burning wood always brings me back to Ghana. For that, it is one of my favorite smells.

When I went to get the papers, I was surprised at how warm it is. The sun is out, but there are clouds. Rain is coming tomorrow. Today will be a pleasant day.

YouTube has been my go to station lately. I’ve watched black and white science fiction and a few disaster movies. I’ve also watched some Peace Corps videos posted by trainees and volunteers. I envy those just starting out in training. They have a most interesting two years ahead of them, two years they will forever treasure. I remember my training. We were the first group to train entirely in country. Our first stop was Winneba for two weeks. My room was on the second floor. I remember the first morning when I was standing by the rail outside my room for my first up close look at Africa. I saw palm trees, thick green undergrowth and tin roofs. During those two weeks we went to meet the chief of Winneba. I can’t imagine what the Ghanaians were thinking when they saw all of these white people walking through their village. It must have been a strange parade.

Training lasted nearly three months. We ate Ghanaian food nobody identified for us. I remember a lot of green which I later found out was kontomire, never a favorite. We got shots, a multitude of shots. We Upper Region trainees finished our live-ins with our Ghanaian families then traveled by ourselves from one end of Ghana to the other to Koforidua and the rest of training. During the three weeks in Koforidua we got together many nights at a spot, a Ghanaian term for a bar, for beer, conversation and mostly companionship. In my mind’s eye, I can still see that spot on the corner of the main road. We hitched to Accra for the weekend. We got one ride all the way. By the end of training, we were comfortable riding tro-tros, walking all over Accra and eating all sorts of strange foods. Ghana had stopped being a foreign country.

I could have gone to law school or accepted a teaching position, but I chose the Peace Corps. For a long time it had been my only real choice. The other two were backup plans I hoped never to use. I remember a January afternoon my senior year in college when the doorbell rang. It was a postman with a special delivery manila envelope for me. On the upper left corner was the return address. It was from Peace Corps. I tore that sucker open and found out I was going to Ghana. I was beyond thrilled. I was joyful. I still feel the same way!

Yesterday was summer. It reached 80˚. I even sat on the deck a while. All those nights in the 30’s disappeared from memory. Today is already warm.

My friends came to dinner last night. They brought a chew bone and a toy for Henry. He wasn’t all that welcoming. He even growled, but that didn’t stop him from eating the bone. Henry is still bit skittish with new people. He allowed patting, but his face gave away his emotions. Henry wasn’t happy.

Dinner was delicious. I enjoy cooking but it has been a while. Luckily, I haven’t lost my touch. My flow chart worked perfectly. I was able to sit with my friends and enjoy some appetizers: shrimp, including barbecue shrimp, and an antipasto plate. For dinner we had mashed potatoes (according to the recipe the best mashed potatoes ever, and they lived up to the hype), glazed baby carrots and marinated lamb chops. Dessert was first a fig filled with chocolate ganache and covered in dark chocolate then coconut ice cream with a sea salt caramel sauce. My friends cleaned up after dinner, the best gift of all.

My father was the official barbecue chef, not unusual as men tend to the fire, a leftover skill I suppose from cavemen. He used a hibachi. He’d sit outside, have a drink or two and keep an eye on the meat. My mother made her potato salad. The meat varied. There was chicken, or sausage, including Chinese sausage, steak tips and once in a while pork chops. When I was a kid, it was always hot dogs and hamburgers.

Before he bought a hibachi, my father had a regular size grill. He’d load it with briquets then use charcoal fluid to help along the briquets. He was a believer in the more fluid the quicker the fire. I can remember hearing a whoosh and then seeing a flame rise into the air from the grill. I remember when the cuff of my father’s pants caught on fire. He got off his chair and stomped around. He also kept a canvas tarp near him to smother the flames which were inevitable. Amazingly, my father always cooked the meat perfectly.

Some days are just right. Today is one of them. The sun is bright and warm. All of the rain from yesterday has nearly dried. Nothing is moving: the day is still. Henry woke me at 6 when he went downstairs. That always means he wants out. I went down and opened the door. Henry went out the dog door. I went back upstairs. I looked out the bedroom window and saw him under the pine trees, Gracie’s favorite poo spot. It seems to be his as well. He finished and then ran toward the back door. I saw a flash of white. He runs at breakneck speed. I went back to bed and shortly thereafter he joined me. We both slept for nearly three more hours. My coffee was delicious this morning. It is the same coffee I’ve had the last week, Kona coffee, but today it was perfect. I toasted a breakfast roll then checked out the fridge for jam or jelly. I found an almost empty jar with a fig spread. I put it on one side of the roll. After one bite, I knew why there was so little left. It is delicious. I filled in the crossword and figured out the cryptoquip. I love today so far.

Today is an errand day, but I don’t mind the four stops. They get me out of the house into the sunshine. I tend to get complacent. It is just so easy to stay home relaxed and comfy.

My house is still filled with clumps of white dog hair. It doesn’t matter how much I clean. The clumps return. Mostly they are in this room and down the hall though I did see a few in the dining room. They were moved by the slight breeze when I walk by them. I’m thinking inside tumbleweeds.

Today is May Day. It is a day to dance and eat cake. It is a day of promise. Spring is really here giving us warmer weather and longer days. Today we celebrate flowers coming to life. There used to be traditions. Baskets of flowers were left by front doors. There was dancing around the Maypole. I think it is time to bring back flowers and dancing. Lord knows we need the joy.

The clouds are still here, and it may rain later or even sooner as the clouds are getting darker. Every now and then the sun pops out but not for long. It is in the mid-50’s. The rest of the week is supposed to be warmer, even reaching the 60’s by Wednesday. We’re getting closer to deck weather.

Some days I just feel lazy. I used to feel guilty being unproductive, but long ago I learned to revel in the sheer luxury of doing nothing. What are you up to today you ask. Well, I will definitely wash up and brush my teeth, but then I’m done. Oops, I do have to fill the bird feeders, but, after that, I’m really done. I have a book, a few new magazines and a very comfy couch. I also have a whoopie pie from the bakery. Sounds like heaven to me.

In my backyard are several clumps of violets. I planted a couple of the flowers and they spread. I dug the original violets from my mother’s yard. They and lilies of the valley grew along the stone wall in the back behind her house. I also have her lilies growing. They are in a bed next to the driveway. The violets are already blooming, and they always remind me of my mother.

The peepers are back. Last night I heard them from near the small pond at the end of the street. They are a spring sound, a welcome sound.

I have always found it amazing how much louder the world gets in the spring. When I was a kid, walking to school in winter was a chore, a chore done quickly with little conversation. Getting from one warm place to the other, even if one was school, was the only thing on our minds. Nobody yelled in winter. We used all our energies to stay warm. But, with the first hint of spring, the world changed. Off went the heavy coats, and we took our time going to school, chatting and laughing the whole way. Birds greeted us and made the morning beautiful. People lingered and said good morning. After school, we played outside, and kids’ voices could be heard again all over the neighborhood. We had woken up just as the flowers and the birds had; we were just louder.

When I woke up, it was a bright, sunny morning. I went outside for the papers, and, on the way back, I checked out the garden as I usually do. A cluster of daffodils has bloomed. They are white and yellow, delicate and beautiful. Since then the sun has  disappeared. The once pretty day has darkened and rain is predicted.

When I was a kid, Sunday in the summer was often beach day. My mother packed the lunch, we jumped in the car, and my dad drove to Gloucester, to Wingaersheek Beach. We went early so he could find a good parking space. Each of us hauled stuff from the car to the beach, to the spot my dad had chosen. The blanket went down. Two corners were weighted, one by the picnic basket and the other by the Tartan thermos. My brother and I rushed to the water followed by my dad. My mother settled on the blanket. My sisters pulled out their pails and shovels. They only strayed from near the blanket to wade in the shallow water close to shore or to walk the beach to find seashells. My mother went with my sisters to keep an eye on them. My mother never swam. She never learned how. My father was the best swimmer I ever saw.

The house is chilly. I lowered my heat setting this week as I was horrified at how often the furnace came on in almost May. But even with my sweatshirt on, I am a bit cold so I’ll give in and turn on the heat to 68˚, my go to temperature.

Old habits do die hard. I still reach for the comics first in the Sunday papers. They were all I read when I was a kid. Those comic strips, though, are mostly gone. I remember The Phantom. He was big and muscular and wore grey. A black mask hid his eyes. Steve Canyon was in the air force. I remember his uniform and his plane. Dondi was a war orphan. Henry was a bald kid. I liked Little Lulu, her red dress and her hair-do. She never changed. Her friend was Tubby, shaped like his name. None of them ever grew older. Kids in comic strips never did. One of my all time favorites was Snuffy Smith, a hillbilly. His wife, Loweezy, wore a red dress and a black kerchief. For sure there were far more comic strips, but these stand out in my memory drawers. I have no idea why.

The sun is back. The day is so much brighter. My heat went on so the house is warm. I just got a fresh cup of coffee. I’m in a paradise of sorts. I keep smiling.

The sky is blue and the sun is shining, a pretty day. It was cloudy when I first woke up so I stayed in bed a while, but Henry was impatient so I was forced to get up and let him outside. He is now staying away from me as I took his collar off to add his new name tag and he is not happy. He keeps eyeing the couch but doesn’t get on it, too close to me. I haven’t dared to put on his new halter. He’d run away from home.

I only thing on my dance card today is the bird feeders. They need to be filled. I bought a bag of sunflower seeds the other day so I’m all set.

When I was a kid, a day like today meant exploring on my bike. I knew all the best places  in my town. The dairy farm was a bit far from my house but well worth the pedaling. The cows were usually in the pasture. They were black and white. Much later I found out they were Holsteins. This time of year there was mud all over the ground outside the barn. It was churned and filled with hoof prints. The cows wandered through.

Sometimes I’d go to the zoo. It was small and filled with cages and fenced in hills for the deer. The draw was the elephant. I even got to feed it inside its enclosure. I had befriended one of the zoo workers, and I got to feed the animals. I’d open the backs of the cages and put their food inside. I always felt special feeding the animals.

I used go to the golf course to find errant golf balls. A few were across the street from the course but most were in the trees and the water. I liked the way golf balls bounced, and I liked the sound they made when I bounced them on the road.

Sometimes I’d bring my lunch, usually a sandwich, mostly a bologna sandwich, and Oreo cookies for dessert. I’d stop at the town hall and sit on the benches. I’d watch people walking uptown to shop. I always hoped for a fire alarm so I could watch the engines barrel down the street with lights blinking and siren blowing. I never thought about there actually being a fire. I just wanted the drama.

I’d get home in the late afternoon. My mother would ask where I’d been. I always answered just around.