Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book.”

November 7, 2013

I love the sound of rain and today is a good day for a lover of rain. When I woke up, the first sound I heard was rain drops falling on the roof so I stayed in bed a bit longer and listened. Gracie gave me a look but she was too comfortable in bed beside me to move and quickly settled back to sleep. I stayed in bed and read a while but the thought of a fresh cup of coffee and the biscotti I bought yesterday were too enticing so I got up and went downstairs, put the coffee on and went outside to get the papers. The leaves are plastered to my driveway and the street. Pine needles cover the lawn, but the rain is welcomed as it has been so dry.

Yesterday Gracie and I went for one errand then we took a ride down cape. She kept her head out the window surveying the world as we passed. I saw some color, mostly bright red. The ocean was quiet. I stopped at one store and bought a few things, odd things like measuring cups, a scoop and some chutney.

I remember my grammar school classroom on rainy days. The lights hung down from the high ceiling, and in the darkness of the day the room always seemed a bit shadowy despite the banks of windows on the back and one side wall. Rain subdued us. There was none of the shuffling of feet or the rustling of papers. I’d lose myself in the rain, and the sound of the nun’s voice would get further and further away until I didn’t hear it anymore. I’d watch the drops of rain pelt the window and find one drop to watch as it rolled down the window getting smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared then I’d find another drop to watch. I was a long way from school on rainy days.

Today is a stay home day. I have no reason to go anywhere. My bed is already made so I have done all my household chores leaving the rest of the day for reading and maybe napping in the late afternoon. A dark, rainy day seems to lend itself to a nap. I’ll stay in my around the house comfy clothes and slippers. Today sounds perfect.

“The secret of your future is hidden in your daily routine.”

November 5, 2013

The sun is among the missing. It’s been gone a while. Today is dark and bleak. Very little color is left in my yard except for one small tree next to the drive-way. Its has red leaves, brilliant red leaves against the backdrop of empty branches.

 I filled the feeders yesterday, and I got really cold. My fingers were the coldest of all. I filled three feeders with sunflower seeds and two with thistle. I also filled one suet feeder, cleaned out the bird bath and added water to it. When I looked later, the birds had descended in full force. When I looked after that, a red spawn was inside one of the feeders. I ran out and scared it so much the panicked spawn had trouble getting out from behind the wires on the feeder. I kept running at it, and the spawn was close enough to touch before it jumped to a branch. It is the same spawn who got hosed all summer. I’m thinking a squirt gun as the hose is put away for the winter. 

When I was young, we’d go into Boston, to the Public Garden, and ride the swan boats. The boat pond was always filled with ducks and the garden itself had a million squirrels and pigeons. People would sit on benches and feed the birds and the squirrels pieces of bread and peanuts from vendors who sold them from red carts along the walkways. I always wanted to feed the squirrels. I thought they were cute. What did I know? I was little. 

Life is filled with routine. It starts when we go to school. We get up every weekday, eat breakfast, get dressed and walk to school. The subjects come in the same order every day except on music and art day. We eat lunch at the same time every day. We go out for recess unless it’s raining. High school doesn’t change the routine much. For me the only difference was I took a bus every day, every day at the same time with the same people. The subjects still came in order. Lunch was at the same time every day . We didn’t have recess but we did go out for air in the small fenced in yard behind the school.

College is when the routine starts to change, and we begin to taste the freedom of choice. Pick your own classes mindful of the schedule. Eat when you have time. Sit around and play cards in the canteen. Skip a class now and then. 

After college, the routine reasserts itself at work. Be there at a certain time, eat lunch at the same time as yesterday and the day before and the day before that, teach the same classes in the same order every day. Go home around the same time every day. That, however, was the first routine I barely noticed and never minded. I didn’t like the getting up part, but I loved the work part. I loved my first two years in Ghana and I loved the next thirty-three here on the cape. I think loving what you do makes the day joyful though not every day because we couldn’t be that lucky, but it does for most days. 

 I have no routine now, and I’m glad. I get to choose whatever my day will be. It doesn’t get much better than that.

“…we went to watch the waves that bitter day and the wind took your red cap and mittens – blew them into the sea…”

November 4, 2013

I should be singing “What a Difference a Day Makes.” Yesterday’s warmth has given way to a seasonably cold morning in the mid-40’s. The view outside my window even looks cold with a here again, gone again sun, a strong breeze and cloudy skies. The weather isn’t inviting though I’ve already been out for breakfast and have to fill the bird feeders later. I’m thinking today is a good day to lounge.

I remember walking to school every day regardless of the weather. The worst walk was during the winter when it was cold and sometimes so damp my bones would chill. My mother made us wear snow pants, thick coats, hats, mittens and sometimes boots, but when I got to a certain age, snow pants were out. I didn’t want to wear them anymore. They were, in my mind, for little kids. Worst of all was I looked silly wearing them because my uniform skirt was worn over the pants instead of tucked in, never an attractive look. My mother, still trying to keep me warm, bought me pink thermal underwear instead. I remember the legs of the underwear reached to my knees. I also remember the underwear was really ugly.

I have a winter coat but I seldom wear it. Going from the house to the car to a warm store doesn’t seem to warrant a heavy coat; instead, I wear a sweatshirt most of the winter, but if it gets really cold, like single digits, I add a lined jacket, a light jacket. I still wear mittens instead of gloves. They keep my hands warm with all the fingers interacting. I have earmuffs but am seldom outside long enough to need them. They’re an emergency item. I hate having red, cold ears.

I have a couple of pairs of boots, but I don’t wear them either. They’re the sort with laces up the front, and, in the age of velcro, that seems an awful lot of work. I usually just wait until my walk is shoveled before I go anywhere and then I wear my wool winter clogs which I have in four different colors. If nothing else, my feet are fashionable in winter.

‘Ye can call it influenza if ye like,’said Mrs Machin.’There was no influenza in my young days.We called a cold a cold.’

November 3, 2013

I woke to the sound of rain plunking on the windowsill. The day is dark with an on again, off again rain. It is much colder than yesterday, and I’d call it a wind, not a breeze, which is shaking the tree limbs.

My backyard is filled with scrub pine trees. They are far from the prettiest of trees, but they survive the salty air and the sandy soil and have become the most numerous of Cape trees. They easily sway with the strongest of winds. This time of year their needles turn brown, drop and cover lawns and backyards. Raking is futile. Gracie’s domain, the backyard, is covered in leaves and needles. I never lose track of her even on the darkest nights. Because the fallen leaves crunch under her paws, I can follow Gracie through the yard just by listening from the deck. Miss Gracie has a favorite route, and there is a path which circles the yard along the fence. I love to watch her running round and round until she is spent.

My house is so very quiet right now. It is warm and cozy. It is a day for lying on the couch under an afghan and reading. Later, I will have to drag myself out of the house to the dump as it is will be closed the next two days, and I have trash which can’t wait until Wednesday. The dump has no dress code so I can stay as I am even down to the slippers. Gracie will be thrilled for the ride to her second favorite place.

I’m thinking I might have a cold coming. My voice is raspy, and I keep clearing my throat as if that might make a difference. I may have only one symptom, but it’s a stand-out.

 

“The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.”

November 2, 2013

It started raining around three this morning. I was still awake. It was one of those nights. I’d shut off the light and hope to fall asleep, but I’d just lie there tossing and turning forgotten, even deserted, by Morpheus. After a while, I’d turn the light back on, grab my book and start reading again. I finished the book around five this morning, heard my papers being delivered, contemplated getting up but gave sleep one more try, and that’s the last thing I remember.

Yesterday we had a wind advisory which I really didn’t need. All I had to do was look out the back window. The pine tree trunks and branches were swaying and dipping. Leaves were being blown off the trees and into the yard. The deck, cleaned the other day, was plastered with yellow, wet leaves. Gracie and I went out. I was surprised by how warm it was even with the wind. I stayed there a while.

Today is again warm but cloudy and damp. The air is perfectly still as if the wind blew itself out in yesterday’s fierceness. It will start to get cold tonight, more like the late fall we have come to expect.

I’m watching the Red Sox celebrate their championship in a rolling rally of duck boats. The sidewalks all along the rally route are lined with people twenty and thirty deep come to pay tribute to the Sox. The Dropkick Murphys are playing and confetti is showering the boats and the crowds. The duck boats are now headed to the Charles River for a quick dip and the end of the rally. It was a glorious baseball season.

Don’t forget to turn your clocks back tonight.

“We fetch fire and water, run about all day among the shops and markets, and get our clothes and shoes made and mended, and are the victims of these details, and once in a fortnight we arrive perhaps at a rational moment.”

November 1, 2013

Today is windy, dark and rainy and very warm. It should reach the high 60’s. Last night was perfect for trick or treating. The howling wind made the night sound spooky and leaves whirled in the air as if juggled by unseen spirits. It was warm. I had about fifteen trick or treaters who wore the best costumes I’ve seen in a while. One girl was an elf with all green make-up on her face and arms to match her green costume. The full size candy bars were a hit as were the wind-ups and bubbles. One girl went yelling to her parents that she got a big candy bar. Her father yelled, “Hello, Miss Ryan.” He was a former student and we chatted a bit. At one point I was trying to give candy to a large group of kids and Gracie almost got loose, but I grabbed her just before she could make her escape. She loved Halloween.

Last night I opened a window in my bedroom. I could smell the fresh air, and there was a small breeze. The night birds were singing then I heard a drop and another drop then a bunch of drops. It had started to rain. I listened for a long while. The sound of rain is one of my favorite of all sounds, not a howling, driven rain but a rain of drops plunking on the roof and the side of the house. I fell asleep to the melody of the rain.

Today is meteor day on the Syfy channel. The Earth is endangered in every movie. I’m watching Collision Earth. I had to laugh when the meteors began to fall. Two men started running as meteors were hitting the ground all around them. It was as if the men had been targeted by the falling chunks. They hid behind their car. It was a miracle: not a single meteor hit their car. Two college students were also miraculously saved. They ran, got in their car and clung to each other. Meteors fell all around them but missed them and their car. Another miracle! I’m guessing the Earth is not doomed. I’m thinking another miracle.

Gracie and I have a couple of errands later. I’d rather it be a sloth day but canned dog food is on the list to buy. Gracie thinks dry food is a treat. That’s my fault.

“But I love Halloween, and I love that feeling: the cold air, the spooky dangers lurking around the corner.”

October 31, 2013

It happened: my Red Sox won the World Series last night in splendid fashion. They led the whole game. I, however, still had clenched teeth until that last out at the top of the ninth. I was so excited I stayed up until after two and watched all the festivities. How could I not? It was spectacular.

The morning was sunny, lovely and warm but since then the sun has been replaced by clouds, and the day is getting darker. I don’t mind. Halloween should be dark and even a bit scary.

I can remember the Halloween excitement from the moment I woke up and remembered what day it was. Having to sit in school for so long was pure torture. At lunch and recess all we talked about was what we were going as. It was never what we were wearing. It was always what we were going as. We were, for one night, witches or ghosts or pirates. I can remember hounding my mother to let us start trick or treating as soon as it got dark. She always said it was too early. We’d look out the picture window hoping to see a trick or treater, a sign it was finally time. Some years my brother and I would go together. We were adventurous spirits who would roam all over town. I can still see in my mind’s eye the sidewalk covered with yellow leaves and here and there bright circles of light from the street lamps. The houses always had their porch lights on as invitations for us to stop. Those were the days of small trick or treat bags filled with individual candies. The lady, never a man, would come to the door, open it a bit and give us a bag from the pile on the table beside the door. If it was a neighbor, she’d try to guess who we were. It was never really very difficult, but the best neighbors always pretended it was. We’d finish the neighborhood then branch out to streets around where we lived then we’d even go further afield. I remember a house where we once got an apple, never a favorite treat, but it had a nickel pushed into the skin as the real surprise. Sometimes the candy bags had a penny or two, and back then pennies still had great value. As the night wore on, we’d see fewer and fewer trick or treaters and fewer lit houses. We knew then it was time to head home.

The haul was always important, but the best part of Halloween was being out at night when the shadows of bare branches looked like hands reaching out to grab us and when we’d hear footsteps behind us and be a little afraid to look. We sometimes scared each other, and I remember laughing while my heart raced just a bit from the fright.

We always walked home slowly making the night last as long as we could.

“Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.”

October 29, 2013

The day is sunny then cloudy then back again. A tiny breeze ruffles the dead leaves. Only the drab gold finches are at the bird feeders. I don’t know where my other stalwarts are. It’s a quiet day. I brought my laundry downstairs, the first step in a long process. In the early afternoon, I have to go to the big city, Hyannis, for an appointment. I’ll make a few stops while I’m there including Trader Joe’s. That place is an occasion of sin, a term the nuns used for temptation.

I feel sleep deprived. The Sox games have ended late then I’m too stoked to sleep so I watch some TV and go on-line. Usually it is around 2:30 before I realize the time. The Sox won last night and are headed back to Boston for game 6 tomorrow night. If the Gods of Baseball smile in our favor, the Sox could clinch the series.

I couldn’t do the cryptogram this morning. My brain just isn’t working. I gave up after a couple of minutes. Usually I am far too tenacious to give up at all but my brain seems sluggish. I don’t even have much to say here today. I haven’t been out so no comments are forthcoming on the state of the world here on Cape Cod though I did read in the paper the local school board continues to fight with the town over solar panels, on the ground panels. The school committee and the superintendent got turned down once because the town committee said the panels are dangerous so the school board tried an end run though the state but got stopped just before approval because of a complaint by an abutter. I don’t get it. The panels will save a good deal of money over time, and the town of Yarmouth where the panels would be placed always complains about paying its portion of the school budget so you’d think the money would be an incentive to approve the panels, but no, not in Yarmouth.

What’s with November coming so soon? Last time I looked it was August, and we were complaining about the heat then September must have sneaked by and now October is almost at an end. I’m not going to blink because next thing I know I’ll be wrapping presents and going out and about to find my Christmas tree.

“I like the way my own feet smell. I love to smell my sneakers when I take them off.”

October 28, 2013

Today is another lovely fall day with lots of sunshine and a pale blue sky. It got cold last night and was 38˚ by the time I went to bed around 2 am. I watched the Red Sox-Cardinals game which didn’t end until late, and when that happens, I am seldom tired enough for bed. The ending of that game was another strange one: a pick-off at first. Who is foolish enough to get picked off at the bottom of the ninth with two outs, your team losing, but Beltrane at bat? Why a rookie, of course, is the answer. The series is now tied 2-2 with a game tonight in St. Louis then a return to Boston. This series is killing me with its late nights, close games and weird calls.

This morning I stood by the window while the coffee was brewing. I watched dead leaves fall off the big oak tree onto the deck. It was sort of sad in a way. Those leaves had hidden my deck from the neighbors all summer. When I was sitting there, I felt as if I were in a tree house surrounded by green leaves and full boughs. Now I can see almost all the way down to the end of the street from my deck. My friend Clare will soon enough be able to see my den window and know when I’m still awake late at night. The light shines brightly.

When I was in the seventh and eighth grade, I played CYO basketball. That was in the days of weird girls’ basketball rules. I was a guard, and I could only stay on one half of the court. I could bounce the basketball three times but then I had to pass it. Only the forwards could score. I had one trick in my arsenal, and that was I could throw the ball full court. One forward would stay by our basket hoping not to be noticed, and when I got the ball, it went to her and she always scored. That was usually good for a few baskets before the other team guarded her and kept her from the basket. Our coach was a former marine, a former female marine, and she was tough. She didn’t have a warm, fuzzy bone in her body. Every instruction sounded like a command, and we obeyed. In practice, she had a mean whistle which she’d blow then she’d point at the offender. My greatest wish was always that she was pointing at someone else. She made us wear high top sneakers which only came in black back then. I remember there was a circle on the outside of each sneaker and inside the circle was the word Converse. We were always the only team with high tops. All the others had white sneakers, girly white sneakers with pointed toes. We didn’t really care when playing basketball, but we never wore those sneakers anywhere else. They were, after all, boys’ sneakers.

Many, many years later colorful high top sneakers with Converse in the circle on the side became a rage. I bought a pair in bright pink and another pair in purple. Those sneakers had stopped being boys’ sneakers. They had become an element of style. When I organized my closet a while back, I found those sneakers, both pairs. I still think they are really cool. I’m partial to the pink.

“If you stand still outside you can hear it… Winter’s footsteps, the sound of falling leaves.”

October 27, 2013

If you looked up fall in the dictionary, they’d be a picture of today. The sun is shining, the sky is a pale blue and the breeze is brisk with a bit of a chill. Fall is in full burst. My front yard is filled with fallen leaves and pine needles. The grass doesn’t needed mowing any more. Yesterday my irrigation system was shut down for the season, and today I’ll clear the water from my back yard hoses. It’s time to close down the deck for the season though I’ll save a place to sit on a sunny day, my big wooden chair. I love fall, but I find it sad when fall begins to move toward winter.

Summer is always exuberant. It is warmth and colors and the sweet smell of flowers wafting through the air. Every morning I’d get the papers and then stop to look at my front garden. I’d lean against the car and marvel at the beauty of the flowers. I always noticed a few empty spots and would get excited at needing to buy new flowers. I can never have enough flowers. I’d finally pull myself away and go into the house, get my coffee and go outside on the deck. It takes me a long time to read the papers when I’m outside. I stop and watch the birds at the feeders and Gracie in the backyard. I listen to the singing. I raise my face to the sun and close my eyes. Summer fills me.

Fall always seems to have a faster pace than summer, and I think of October, nearing its end, as the bridge between fall and winter. Fall has a unique beauty when the leaves turn, and the trees are filled with color, muted color. My garden celebrates the season with fall flowers. The plants I put in last year were in full bloom this fall, and I was surprised as I had forgotten planting them. This year I added three more fall flowers, and they must have been happy to be planted as they bloomed a week or two later. Of all the seasons fall surprises me the most. The days are sometimes as warm as summer while the nights get downright cold. The sunlight slants in an odd direction. Darkness comes earlier and earlier.

My heat comes on in the mornings now. I can hear it as I’m waking up. The days seem to be warm enough to keep the furnace at bay, but I doubt that will last too much longer. Winter is coming.