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” If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to all the picnics?”

March 23, 2012

A damp, cloudy day has replaced our two days of summer. It is 57° which is still quite warm, but it’s no deck day. From my window, I can see pine trunks and branches dark against the light grey sky. A slight breeze flutters the dangling dead oak leaves. It’s a sweatshirt day.

Yesterday TCM was b&w 1950’s science fiction day. I watched a behemoth rise from the Thames and a glob of radioactivity melt people. The best of the films was THEM!, the giant ant movie, one of my all time favorites. I haven’t seen it in a while, but I still remembered some of the dialogue. “Make me a sergeant in charge of the booze,” is one of its memorable lines. At the beginning of the film, the regular size ants eating the sugar on the floor of the destroyed shop is a great scene and the only hint of what is to come. Pat Medford, the lady PhD, got off the plane wearing a suit, a hat and white gloves while Robert Graham aka James Arness, the FBI hero, constantly complained about the desert heat but never took off his fedora. Before the Big Dig, as you went through the South Station tunnel in Boston, you could hear, bouncing off the walls, the exact sound the ants made. I always listened for it as I drove through.

In Ghana, some of the ant hills are taller than people. They always looked like something out of a science fiction movie to me. The hills, made out of sand, are different shapes: some look like the sand castles we used to build on the beach while others resemble stalagmites which rise from the savannah like conical sand icicles. I never stopped to see the ants by the hills, but once during training an army of ants marched across the school grounds. The column was about a foot wide, but I have no idea how long it was as I had to pull myself away to go teach. I watched as long as I could. Some of the ants carried leaves while others carried food of some sort. We’d put a leaf in the middle of the column, but it never deterred the ants who’d move around it on the two sides then regroup when past it. It was fascinating.

I have a full dance card today.

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“The earth neither grows old or wears out if it is dunged.”

March 22, 2012

Yesterday was summer. It was a sandals and short-sleeve day. I had my bedroom window open and woke up to the sounds of leaf blowers. I could hear people talking and birds singing to the morning. The silence and sense of isolation which winter always brings is gone, at least for now. Today is supposed to be just like yesterday, but the weatherman says the temperature will plummet this weekend. The forecast in today’s local paper for the weekend predicts nights in the 30’s and days in the high 40’s, typical weather for spring on Cape Cod, but we have been spoiled.

I ordered flowers from a catalog yesterday. They’ll be here at planting time for my weather zone. They are flowers I would never have thought of buying except my friend Christer had given me a list, and that’s what I used. He knows flowers and plants, and the pictures on his blog of everything he finds on his walks and what he has planted in his garden always makes me a bit jealous. I was proud of my front garden last year though I knew only the names of a couple of the flowers. That won’t change. Flowers are defined by color for me.

I am going to have a vegetable garden this year. I’ve had an herb garden for years, but I thought I’d branch out, so to speak. I’ve always thought just below the deck would be the perfect spot for a small garden. My landscaper is going to use railroad ties for the boundary and right now he is dumping loam which he’ll mix with cow manure. I’ll have tomatoes and one other vegetable. I thought about zucchini but planting it is akin to having a pair of  rabbits. Two rabbits quickly become many, and, like the rabbits,  zucchini seems to replicate itself. Anyone who grows it is always trying to give it away. Besides, the only way I like zucchini is in a sweet bread. The cooked vegetable always seems a bit boring to me.

Gracie has been out all morning, and I think it’s time to join her. It is amazing that this is the second deck day in a row!

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“Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.”

March 20, 2012

Happy First Day of Spring!

We welcomed spring this morning by watching the sunrise on the beach. We arrived about 6:15, and when we got out of the car, the smell of the ocean filled the air the way it does on some mornings. A bank of fog covered the houses behind us on the bay, but the ocean was clear. It was the warmest first day of spring I can remember. At first, we were the only ones on the beach. There we were, the  three of us, sitting in our beach chairs as if it were a summer day. The sea was so calm you could barely see the waves touch the sand. Behind us were squawking ducks while over the water were seagulls making all sorts of noises. I watched the birds dive into the water hunting breakfast. The sky was pink, and the pink was reflected in the water. Clare hunted shells so we could have a memento. A woman and her dog went by us down to the jetty at the end of the beach. She was throwing a tennis ball, and he was running with such joy I swear the dog was smiling.

We saw the sun start to rise when the tip first appeared, and it was glorious, all red and so bright it made us see dots before our eyes. As the sun got bigger, it seemed to get brighter and brighter. The water was so calm it reflected every bit of the light, and on it we could see the red as if a broad road led from the sun. Canada geese floated by us and several others flew right over the water toward the rising sun. We sang our welcome spring songs and took pictures of each other. It was a glorious morning which ended with our traditional first spring breakfast.

On the way home from breakfast, we couldn’t see Scargo Lake because the fog was so dense. I love foggy mornings, and I loved this morning with all its beauty, color and tradition.

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“The Earth Laughs in Flowers.”

March 19, 2012

It is just after 11, and the temperature is already 64°. Gracie is in the yard, and I’ve been outside standing on the deck taking in the morning and watching her enjoy the sun. She has a grassy spot where she lies asleep on her side spread out to the warmth. Fern is lying in the sun from the front door. I can almost hear Curly singing Oh What a Beautiful Morning.

My yard is filled with flowers from the bulbs I planted last fall. Usually the spawns of Satan dig them up but not last year. Every morning I can’t help but stand a while just to look at them. I long for color after the bareness of winter so the bright yellows and deep purples draw me to the garden. Even the white crocus are filled with a richness of color. Some flowers have yet to bloom, and I wait patiently wondering what other surprises the garden will give.

When I was a little kid, spring meant putting away the heavy coat, the mittens, the hat and the boots. I don’t think I ever noticed flowers growing. I noticed the mud and I heard the birds every morning on my way to school. Spring also meant taking my bike out of the cellar and finally getting to ride it again. Spring meant staying outside longer on a school day afternoon. The streetlights came on later and later.

I always felt a sense of freedom in the spring. Gone was the bulkiness of winter. The radiators stopped their hissing. The windows were free of frost and were opened for the first time in months. The house was filled with the sweet smell of the spring air. We went back to roaming on a Saturday.

Back then I loved summer, but I think spring was my favorite season. I know for certain it is now. Officially, spring is two days away, but today is a spring day.

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“St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic.”

March 17, 2012

Yesterday it was in the darkness of early morning when I woke while today it was 10:30. I am as fickled as the weather. My friend Clare came by with a few St. Patrick’s day gifts and rang the bell. Gracie barked, and I woke up then tried to figure out the what day it is. I got it on the first try.

If St. Patrick’s Day was on a school day, we got it off as a holiday. After all, I went to St. Patrick’s Grammar School, and we had to honor the school’s patron saint or at least that’s what the nuns told us, but the significance of the day was always lost on us as we had no idea how to honor a patron saint, but we knew how to enjoy a day off from school. March was always the most dismal of school months with only this one day off unless Easter came early and we got Good Friday. We did thank St. Patrick but not for the reasons the nuns expected.

If you lived in and close to Boston, you also got today off from school but not for St. Patrick’s Day. Today is Evacuation Day. It is the day the British evacuated the city of Boston during the Revolutionary War. It used to be an official holiday for all schools and state workers but it was eliminated last year and now is celebrated in name only.

When I was in high school and a member of St. Patrick’s Shamrock drill team, we marched in the parade. It was the worst of all parades in which to march. Sometimes it was freezing cold. Every time, some drunk would join us for a bit of the march with a glass of beer in his hand he was more than happy to share with us. I remember the crowds along the street were loud and always cheered us for our name and for the shamrocks on our uniforms.

When I was in college, going to the St. Patrick’s day parade in South Boston was a big deal. It was a day to celebrate by wearing green and drinking a significant amount of alcohol. I remember several toasts to me by people I didn’t know that we’d met in the bars. Kathleen Ryan is as Irish a name as can be.

My mother always made corned beef and cabbage today. She was a great cook, but I do remember one year she cooked it a bit too long, and my father was mystified when he couldn’t find the potatoes. They had dissolved in the pan. He was more than disappointed.

I have no plans for today though I’m thinking I might go out for corned beef and cabbage. I can’t imagine St. Patrick’s  Day without it.

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“Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.”

March 16, 2012

Having one bug wasn’t enough apparently. First came the cleaning bug and now I have the early bug. Most nights I am awake until well after 12, closer to 1 or 2 usually, then I sleep 8 hours. I found out that’s how much sleep I need after I tossed away the alarm clock; consequently, I sleep late some mornings: late, of course, being relative. Last night I went to bed early, around midnight. This morning I woke up at 5. That’s right. I woke up when it was still dark. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t so I got up and came downstairs for my morning coffee. Around 6 AM, adding a bit of emphasis with the AM, I went to the driveway to get the papers. It was a bit chilly out, but the birds were singing so I hung around a while. When I came back inside, I started my usual morning routine but far too early. This better be a one day event!

The local paper has police news called The Log, usually with a mug shot or two. I couldn’t believe the one I read this morning. A woman was arrested for speeding away from an attempted traffic stop. She reached 70 on the local roads before the police stopped her. She had her one year old in the car. The police smelled alcohol on her so she was given a sobriety test and failed. In addition to the speeding charge, she was then also arrested for driving under the influence, child endangerment, negligent operation of a motor vehicle and a marked lanes violation. At the police station, arrangements were made for her friend to pick up the one year old. The friend arrived holding her own young child. The police smelled alcohol on her breath. She also failed the sobriety test and was arrested for operating under the influence, child endangerment and driving with a suspended license.

I couldn’t believe it. Just go drunk to the police station, no big deal, and bring your child. People like these two walk the Earth among us. Keep that in mind and be careful.

I seldom have a diatribe. I admit every now and then I groan or complain and even whine a little. I hope you’ll chalk up today’s to my being awake far too early.

It’s going to be cold and might even rain today. I watched the eye-opener news and weather at 5:30 and heard the weatherlady say it will hit the mid-70’s next week. I figure for my first day of spring festival I won’t have to dress like Nanook of the North.

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“Life isn’t all beer and skittles, but beer and skittles, or something better of the same sort, must form a good part of every Englishman’s education.”

March 15, 2012

This morning I stood outside admiring my flowers. Several crocus (I know it has a first declension Latin masculine ending so it is really croci) are blooming. Most are purple and yellow. Any day now my daffodils will open and so will a few flowers outside the fence. I always want a party when the first flowers bloom. It seems a celebratory time needing funny hats, horn blowing and colorful mismatched clothing.

The sun is bright, but it is only 43°. After the Cape finally reached 60°, my expectations have risen. The weatherman says a warm spell is on the way, and Boston will be in the high 70’s so we’ll be in the 60’s again. I’ve got to remember my sunscreen.

I cleaned another cabinet and the bookcase in the kitchen. The bookcase is filled with special cookbooks I collect, those with recipes inspired by novels, and neat stuff like Davy Crockett bowls and a glass, a Hopalong Cassidy milk bottle, an old A&W mug and lots of other stuff including tacky souvenirs from places I’ve never been. I took everything knickknackty off the bookcase and washed or polished everything. Now I wear sunglasses to protect me from the glare in the kitchen. I have a couple of other cabinets I still need to tackle but not today. It’s my day off the mundane.

Tonight is trivia night, and the whole team will be there. It’s dinner out, a few drinks and several  futile attempts to rack my brain for answers I should know but have totally forgotten. It is sometimes a humbling night.

Sorry was our favorite family game but second to that was Go to the Head of the Class. I have my family’s original Go to the Class Game from around 1955 I think. My mother gave it to me for my school-themed bathroom. One of these nights I’m going to pull it out so my friends and I can play. The questions are age-related so adults can play. My parents used to play with us. They got to be Mommy and Daddy, two of the cardboard pieces. I think my brother was Cowboy Joe and I was Sis. The originators (Milton Bradley) weren’t too  imaginative with the names. The board is filled with desks and you keep moving to the top row, the head of the class. It was one of our favorite games.

I remember endless games of Slapjack and War. The problem with Slapjack was the first person to slap the Jack got slapped by everyone else trying to snag the card, and the backs of  our hands stayed red most of the game. We’d actually play War until its conclusion. I can’t imagine that.

Well, I’m done. I have some prep for tonight’s trivia. I have to check out a map of the world. I’m okay with most parts, but I’m really bad with which countries abut each other in Asia and parts of the Middle East.  I want to be ready for all the geography questions tonight.

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“Don’t let schooling interfere with your education.”

March 12, 2012

The day is glorious. I have been outside sitting and reading the paper in the sun. Begrudgingly I came inside to write Coffee and hope for a quick inspiration so I can go back outside. Gracie has been in the yard all morning. This is her lie in the sun on the grass and take a nap sort of weather. Ah, the life of a pampered pet!

I know exactly why it is called a spring in your step, and I think it’s a metaphor having nothing to do with the verb spring. Today I feel more alive than I have. Today is warm and sunny and the sort of day which makes the heart sing. It is a hopeful day as spring always bring hope and a new beginning.

My garden is filled with shoots, and the first crocus is in bloom. It’s yellow. I can also see the knobs on the top of the hyacinth and two daffodils are tall and heavy with buds. The air smells sweet.

I used to love to walk to school on days like today. I’d shed my winter coat and mittens and wear only a sweater under my spring jacket. My friends and I always took our time walking when the weather was this beautiful as we knew we’d spend most of the day locked in and sitting at our desks. I used to look longingly out the windows and wish I were outside in the  sun. It seemed such a waste to be learning fractions when I could be running in the field with the warm sun on my face. Recess made it even nore difficult to go back into the building.

When I was in the 8th grade, I used to hide my lunch bag, no more lunch boxes at the sophisticated age of  thirteen, and I’d leave as if I were going home for lunch. My friend Jimmy, always a co-conspirator, came with me. We’d find a bench in the sun up the street near the town hall and eat lunch then we’d go back to school. Sometimes we were really late returning, long after the bell, and we’d tell Sister Hildergarde we were at the library or talking to some priest or other. She always nodded, and we’d take our seats. On a few really beautiful spring days we’d leave early telling some story about where we were going which Sister Hildergarde always bought. We were a clever pair, Jimmy and I, and maybe even a bit devious.

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“For in spite of the snapdragons and the duty millers and the cherry blossoms, it was always winter.”

March 11, 2012

The sky is a deep blue with only a few small clouds to give the blue a bit of contrast. Cars had frost on their windshields when I left for breakfast this morning. It was darn cold last night. The animals huddled beside me in bed keeping themselves and me warm. Now is their morning nap time, and the house is warm and cozy.

Gracie and I will go to the dump later. I haven’t told her yet. It’ll be a surprise. After that I need to buy dog food at Agway. It used to be that on weekends I’d shop at all these neat little stores and buy clothes or linens or stuff I really didn’t need but liked and knew I’d find the perfect place for somewhere in the house. My friend and I would go to the antique stores and never leave empty-handed. I can’t remember the last time I shopped without pushing a grocery cart of some sort. I think I’m becoming boring.

Last week I barely left the house. I did go grocery shopping, but that doesn’t count. Inside the house I did only menial tasks: I changed the bed and the cat litter and did a wash or two. I’m thinking I was doing a great imitation of a shut-in. This week I vow to get out more often. I had good intentions last week, but I was lazy and enjoyed doing nothing. Mind you, I’m not feeling guilty, but I do think some air and sun are probably good ideas.

It is with longing that I look out my window at the deck. The chairs and tables are still covered. I want to be out there enjoying the warmth of the morning sun with my coffee and papers. Now, only Gracie runs across it from the yard, and the birds drop by to eat. This morning I saw the red spawn of Satan running along the rail. The beast hasn’t been around a while, and I thought it had moved. It didn’t stay long, but its very presence is more than an annoyance. I want a rock.

This is the time of year when Mother Nature plays her tricks on us. Some days will be close your eyes and let the sun warm you days while other are scrape the car window days. I can barely wait until every day is warm in the sun. I’ve enough of winter even as warm as it was.

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“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”

March 10, 2012

Last night I set my alarm with plenty of time for a coffee run to Dunkin’s and a hunt for the best viewing for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. When the alarm rudely woke me up, I looked out the window, saw snow, turned off the alarm and promptly went back to sleep. It’s more than a dusting but not a whole lot more. It must have been wet snow at first as the walk, driveway and street have a layer of  slush which froze a bit. I couldn’t find my newspaper then I noticed it had slid all the way down the driveway and was a lump covered with snow. Right now it is 33° and winter. The rest of the week will be in the 50’s and spring.

The sun is desperately trying to come out right now, and the warmer air is melting the snow off the roof. I can see drops falling onto the deck. My dance card is empty today so I don’t really care about the weather.

There was no cryptogram in today’s Cape paper, and I was bummed. Being a creature of habit, it is one of my morning rituals. Solving it each day means I still have some reasoning power left which gives me comfort as my memory is spotty.

The sun has just appeared. It won the battle. I’d like to think I helped!

The snow has dampened any sound and kept people inside their houses. My neighborhood is quiet. Where I grew up had hundreds of kids or at least it always seemed that way. They were everywhere, and it was seldom quiet. That was in the day when families had lots of kids. You never wanted for a playmate or a friend. The little girls played house or dolls sitting on the back steps or on the grass while the boys played any noisy game they could concoct. We older kids roller skated, rode our bikes or walked around town. Saturdays, of course, found us at the matinée. We never seemed to run out of things to do.

My neighborhood has a lot of kids now. The family down the street just had their 4th, their first girl. At another house, they had their third, another boy, a few months back. The house next door has three but one is in high school. Their youngest is almost five. The only time I see any of these kids is when they’re on a walk with one parent or the other. Other than that, they’re in their yards playing. Long gone are the days of roaming or bike riding all over town. I still go to a Saturday matinée every now and then, but the best parts are gone. Nobody throws things like JuJu Beads and not a single couple makes out in the back rows. Where’s the fun gone?

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