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“Well pleaseth me the sweet time of Easter That maketh the leaf and the flower come out.”

April 21, 2011

The day is beautiful with a bright sun and a deeply blue sky. The temperature will reach 58°, almost sunning on the deck weather. Gracie has been out most of the morning while Fern is basking in the sun from the front door. The forsythia in the garden is in full bloom. Its yellow leaves are almost too bright for my eyes, but I’m not complaining. They are a welcome sight. The buds on the trees are becoming more prominent, and my small lilac bush actually has tiny green leaves. Spring is finally here.

We’d have already bought our Easter clothes by now. My sisters tended to the frilly and both loved hats. White shoes with a strap and gloves completed their outfits. I remember how excited they were to have such lovely new clothes. I was into simple and easy to wear, but I always choose a dress because that’s what we all wore. I remember when I was older, probably around 12, I chose a suit like outfit. When we were at my grandmother’s, I heard my mother tell one of my aunts I wanted to be casual. It sounded as if she was defending my choice of a outfit lacking frills and Easter colors. My brother got stuck with a new shirt, pants and a tie. The tie was always a clip on.

During Easter week, the church had services from Holy Thursday through Easter. On Holy Thursday night, the service included the washing of the feet. My mother and I went one year, the year my grandfather was chosen to have his feet washed. All I remember is neither of us could stop laughing. We were able to be quiet, but our shaking shoulders gave us away. Neither one of us dared look at the other. I don’t know what started us, but I do know we took a long time to stop. My grandfather was short so maybe it was tangling feet or the look on his face, so solemn, as the priest knelt before him as he washed my grandfather’s feet. The only other part of that service I remember is the smell of incense as the priest walked up and down the middle aisle slowly moving the incense burner back and forth. I loved that smell.

This Easter my friends Clare, Tony and I, are going out to eat, to the same place we went last year. It is on the ocean and the view is spectacular as is the food. I won’t be in frills or petticoats, but I’ll be dressy. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll might wear a hat in memory of those long ago Easters!

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“I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.”

April 19, 2011

I apologize for yesterday. It was Patriot’s Day here in Massachusetts, and it’s the day I work the marathon. The alarm jarred me awake at 6. That may not sound early, but for me, it’s the middle of the night. I had a quick cup of coffee and read the paper then left at about 6:40. As usual, I parked at Quincy Adams and took the T to Boston. The day was breezy and chilly. Even in the tent where I worked, it got mighty cold. My job every year is to set up lunch then feed the volunteers who work at Copley because once inside the barriers, there’s no leaving so lunch is a necessity. I was at the back flap of the tent and for the first time I heard the bells ring when the winner crossed the finish line. I didn’t see him, but hearing the bells was almost as good. My job is finished by 12:30, and I don’t hang around. I was home by 2:20 and went right upstairs for a nap. I was exhausted.

Today is cloudy and surprise, surprise, it’s supposed to rain. I have a bunch of errands to do so Gracie and I will hit the road when I’m finish here, rainy or not. I have a list! The bird feeders are empty again, but I have seed so if the rain holds off until I get back, I’ll fill them. I miss my morning birding.

This is April vacation week here for kids. We never did anything special when I was young but not going to school almost seemed special enough. When I was an adult, my parents and I usually went to Europe for the week. I’d pick one country, and they’d happily come along. They were great travelers. My favorite trip, though, was when my sister came too. We went mostly to Belgium  though we did stay in Holland a couple of nights. I was the driver, and I won’t ever forget driving in Holland. At some body of water we needed to cross, I had to get the car on a ferry by lining up the wheels with the two pieces of wood used for loading. That seemed easy compared to the other memory forever etched into my brain: driving beside that dike. A truck was off-loading sheep at the other end of the road and was taking up most of the road. The driver waved me to one side of the road with not enough room for the car.Two tires were on the road and two were in the mud along the side of the dike which put the car at an angle. I swear no one was breathing as I held on to the wheel with all my strength to keep us from sliding into the dike water. I remember the sound of exhaling when we got to the end of the dike road.

We visited many WWII sites, and my dad was thrilled. We spent a night in Bastogne, ate at the hotel where officers had stayed during the battle of the Bulge and visited the museum. As we were leaving, we saw the sign just out of town which indicated where the Germans had advanced. It was right out of the town. We stopped in the Ardennes and saw lines of tank traps looking like teeth though many are now hidden by the encroaching woods. It was an amazing trip.

I cherish the travel with my parents and the memories we made. I call them to mind often and still can see the whipped cream on my dad’s face from the special ice coffee in Vienna and I’ll never forget the smile he made when he first tasted it.

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“Good-bye–my paper’s out so nearly, I’ve only room for, Yours sincerely.”

April 17, 2011

It rained during the night, and the wind was fierce. One pine tree swayed so much I thought it would snap. When I woke up a couple of hours ago, it was still damp and cloudy. Now the wind has disappeared, the sun is shining, and the day is getting warmer. It’s a pretty Sunday morning.

Today is Palm Sunday. I remember my mother and a father had an old wooden crucifix over their bed and stuck behind it all year were palm fronds. Every Palm Sunday my mother would change the fronds after she’d come back from mass. The old ones were so dry their ends were like needles, and I remember being stabbed by a palm frond as I helped my mother.

I never worked when I was in high school, but I did babysit for extra money. It was easy. Once the kids were in bed, I could watch TV or read and get paid for doing it. It was so long ago, though, I don’t remember how much I got an hour, but I remember it was good money easily earned. My first real job was the summer after I’d graduated from high school and it was at Woolworth’s in Hyannis, and I didn’t like it much. I earned minimum wage and cleaned mice and hamster cages, worked the register and did whatever else I was told. The store was right on Main Street and was huge. It had a large souvenir section, and tourists could buy shells and star fish and snow globes from China. The store is gone now, replaced by a couple of different stores.

Every summer after that until I went to Ghana and every Christmas vacation during college I worked at the Hyannis post office. It was a great job for really good money. Christmas time I worked noon to midnight while summers I worked noon to nine. The job had little pressure, and all I did was sort mail or run letters through the stamping machine. We could chat and smoke as we worked. I was what was called a seasonal. Hyannis was, back then, a really busy post office, and all the cape mail was sent from there to Boston. Years later, Buzzards Bay became the hub and Hyannis became just another post office. I stopped in there last summer to get stamps, and it looked just about the same. People were chatting and sorting mail just as they had well over forty years ago. Only the smoke was missing.

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“Can we conceive what humanity would be if it did not know the flowers?”

April 16, 2011

Rain coming tomorrow-what a surprise. (I hope you can hear the sarcasm as you read that first sentence.) Today will be cloudy and chilly all day. I guess clouds and rain are the prices we have to pay for the two days of sunshine we had. The confirmation for my trip was e-mailed yesterday. I fly from Boston to Frankfurt to Accra and on the way back I fly Accra to Dulles to Boston. It’s amazing when dreams and wishes come true.

Bright male goldfinches are at the feeders, and the garden in front of the house is a riot of colors with yellows and purples and blues. They are from the bulbs I planted last fall. The spawns of Satan ate the tulips. From my window here, I can see buds on the oak trees in the backyard. The buds are still tiny but finally visible. The buds on the forsythia in front have tinges of yellow. I have to go and get the dog treats I didn’t get yesterday, and I know I won’t walk away from Agway without a plant or two. I can’t help it. Also, my herb garden needs to be totally replanted. That’s always fun and has to be done early as the herbs tend to sell and be gone faster than the flowers. The peepers are back, another sign that spring is here. Night sounds will soon fill the air. My neighbors came back from Florida yesterday, another sign of spring.

When I take a trip, I usually buy a few new clothes. Without travel, I’d probably wear nothing but threadbare pants and shirts which I really wouldn’t mind all that much. I ordered a summer dress which for me is an OMG sort of purchase, a shirt and a new pair of pants. I figured I’d have a couple of dresses made in Ghana, but I won’t have time before the festivities so I had to order one. A few more clothing items are on the list, but I’ll hold off until closer to the trip. I do want light luggage. Coming back from Morocco was a horror story as I had to haul the heaviest suitcase from one terminal to another. I figure it’s best not to start with an empty suitcase already heavy, and I know I’ll be buying gifts to bring back and add to the weight. So much to do!

Well, I’m having left over pizza for breakfast, and I’m hungry so I’ll end here.

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“Grin like a dog and wander aimlessly.”

April 15, 2011

The day was perfectly lovely yesterday though still a bit cold. Today is the same. The breeze is slight but it keeps the temperature at 43° despite the sun. The cat and dog are jockeying for position in the sun on the rug by the front door. I’m thinking I should join the fray.

I did it. Yesterday I found my flight to Ghana and booked it. I leave on August 27th and return on September 11th. With the two back surgeries and the length of the flight, I went business class. I decided comfort was more important than money. On the way back, I go first class-that’s just the way the routing worked, but I’m not complaining. I figure I’ll load up my iPad with books and be all set. I’m already excited and it’s months away.

Last night was trivia night though trivia is hardly the word for the questions which had answers such as ziggurat and a bonus round of match columns of words and definitions which none of us had ever seen before but we managed to get all 10 right by looking at the prefixes and other hints. We don’t do well on music as most of it is current and we are all stuck in the classical or 60’s mode.  It is always a wonderful night out with dinner and good friends. Did I mention we won?

Next week is April vacation around here. When I taught, I’d always go to Europe that week. I’d choose one country, rent a car and drive all over. Several of the trips were with my parents and my sister joined us once. They were always great trips. My dad kept us laughing with some of his comments though that was never his intention. Portugal is still my favorite of our trips. We traveled to the north as far as we could go. From my window, I could see the lights of the Spanish border station. The roads were so narrow that in some villages a light gave us the go ahead to go through the town while the cars at the other end waited for their green light. We saw Roman ruins and iron age ruins. I had kid for Easter dinner. My favorite stop was Miranda do Douro with wisteria growing all over its walls, a beautiful old cathedral and an old section with dirt streets. My parents and I wandered through the small town and stayed at a wonderful posada right on the river. On some of the roads we had to pass wagons pulled by horses and a few by donkeys. It felt as if we had gone back in time.

The weekend is open ended-no plans except for my usual Sunday breakfast out. I do have to go and buy dog treats at Agway as Gracie would never forgive me if I had none, and we’re close to that now. I just started a book and I want to work on my Ghana slide show so I do have stuff to keep me busy. That’s seldom a problem. Did I mention an afternoon nap?

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“Do not wait for extraordinary circumstances to do good action; try to use ordinary situations.”

April 14, 2011

4″ of rain fell yesterday. It started raining the night before then poured all of yesterday. We even had thunder to give the rain a bit of spice. Today it’s 50°, and the sun is lurking behind light gray clouds. Gracie is busy watching the men clean the yard across the street. Their blowers were the first things I heard this morning. Today is one of Gracie’s favorite days: dump day. We’ll go as soon as I finish loading the car with my cardboard, bottles, magazines and newspapers. Did I mention the trash? She would have loved the old dump with piles of refuse and seagulls everywhere. The dump now has bins for all the recycling and bigger bins for the trash, and there are no seagulls.

When we lived in South Yarmouth, my father used to love to go to the dump. Every Sunday morning, he’d ask if anyone wanted to go with him. Guests were in big trouble as they were usually dragged along as if the dump was a tourist destination. I used to be able to see the old dump from the highway. The seagulls were always circling hoping to find a morsel. That dump too has been replaced, and from the highway, all I can see are green hills where the old dump used to be.

I sometimes drive by our old house in South Yarmouth. The only changes in the forty plus years since I lived there are an addition added to the kitchen side and a fence in the back. My bedroom was on the first floor as was my brother’s. I’m often tempted to stop and peek in the windows, but I can still see every room in my mind’s eye. It’s the same with the house we left to move to the cape. I remember every piece of furniture in every room. In Ghana, my house was small, four rooms, and I know every one of them as if I still lived there. My bedroom had a wall of slat windows, and I actually made curtains. They were of brown Ghanaian cloth with a design. I cut then hemmed then used string to hold them across the windows. In the living room, the light bulb hung from a long wire. I made a shade from a Bolga basket, the same ones you can now buy from catalogs. I cut a hole in the top and used pieces of a wire hanger to hold the bulb. The shade left a small circle of light on the floor below it. During the rainy season, the only time we had bugs, the circle under the lampshade was always filled with dead ones from the night before.

Well, enough with the memories. I need to get to the dump.

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“Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”

April 12, 2011

The weather is the same as yesterday with clouds, but the sun has been playing some peek-a-boo and might just surprise us. It’s 56°. I never did go anywhere yesterday despite my good intentions; I just played at being a sloth, but this morning I have already been to a meeting and gone to have my blood drawn. Three more errands are on the list, and I’ll leave as soon as I finish here. I never can pass up these bursts of energy.

The birds are back. I am forgiven for leaving the feeders empty for so long. There are my usual visitors: titmice, chickadees, goldfinches and nuthatches. Did I mention the red spawn of Satan? It gets into my smaller feeder and settles in for a lavish feast. I tiptoe over and scare it to the ground. I did leave more peanuts for them yesterday and watched as the red spawn dined al fresco. I filled the suet feeder but the woodpeckers haven’t been there yet. They seem to prefer the wood on the side of my house.

In Marrakesh, cranes nest along ancient walls. I sat one afternoon having coffee and watched them coming and going. It was fascinating. Strangely I don’t remember seeing many Ghanaian birds except Guinea fowl and vultures. The vultures made me think of all those movies where they circle the dead bodies and wait for dinner. I remember sitting at the compound of my Ghanaian father’s wives and seeing vultures walking around. I was mesmerized, but after a while, they just became part of the landscape.

Every morning, when I go get the papers, I can hear the birds greeting the day. It is such a welcome sound that I always stand and listen for a bit. They make me believe that soon enough the days will get warmer, and I’ll sit on the deck while the birds swoop in and out over my head to get to the feeders. They make me feel optimistic. If I could whistle a happy tune, I probably would. Come to think of it, I may just anyway.

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“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”

April 11, 2011

The day is cloudy, and it rained during the night. The air still feels damp, but it’s not a bone chilling damp, not a winter damp. The early morning was foggy. It is already 51°. The sun would be nice, but I’ll take a day in the 50’s even without it.

The morning has been lazy. I woke up early but took my time with my coffee and the papers. Gracie decided to fall asleep with her head on my lap, and I just sat there patting her for the longest time. Finally I roused myself for more coffee and then started some laundry. I have errands later including shopping at the dreaded grocery store. The cats need food and Gracie needs more of her treats.

I love the smells of cinnamon and curry and rosemary. Sometimes I just run my hand up a stalk of rosemary from the garden and its aroma stays on my fingers. When I took my laundry down the cellar this morning, I passed my spice rack built on the inside cellar door. It was curry I smelled so I had to linger a bit. In Marrakesh, whole stalls are filled with spices in too many colors to describe. They give Moroccan food its distinct flavors. I remember cumin, coriander and saffron.

I love experimenting by cooking new foods. Most times I do it for company, and I don’t mind the risk of making an entirely new dish. I read tons of recipes and have to imagine the look and taste of each dish so they complement each other. My friends are willing to give the food a try, and most times the dishes have wonderful tastes and flavors. I know there must be failures, but I don’t remember them, selective memory loss I guess. Some dishes have become favorites. My friends love my Moroccan marinated olives. which I consider a great sacrifice for me to make. I don’t like olives. My muhammara, also from Morocco, is pretty much a universal favorite. My curry always wows them. One summer, my watermelon and feta salad was the hit of the season.

When I have a little time or I’m bored with TV or my books, I take out my file of clippings from magazines and the newspapers and go through all the recipes. I have a couple I’m excited to try. Looks like I need to expand my shopping list.

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“Do not let Sunday be taken from you If your soul has no Sunday, it becomes an orphan.”

April 10, 2011

Yesterday I filled all the feeders and even fed the spawns of Satan. I had a bag of peanuts in the shell and lined peanuts one after another on the deck rail. The squirrel arrived about a minute after I’d left, sniffed the first peanut then took his time eating them. He even sat down at each peanut to give it his full attention. It was interesting watching him size up the peanut to decide the best way to open it. I also took a trash bag and cleared the backyard of papers and plastic flower pots which the wind had blown from underneath the deck. I found a couple of empty cat food cans stolen by Gracie and sneaked into the yard where she cleaned them out. Gracie trash picks, but I never catch her. She is adept at being quiet and sneaky.

It is actually 51° but I think it feels chillier, the house especially. This time of year the air outside is sometimes warmer than the inside. I should push Fern over and make her share the sun with me. Cody just arrived from down the street to play with Gracie. He comes to my front door and barks so I’ll know he’s there though Gracie usually spots him first.

Tiny buds have appeared on most of the trees. My wild rose bush has some on every branch. The crocus are finally up in the front of the house, and I found some daffodils in the backyard when I was cleaning. I don’t know how they got there as I didn’t plant them. Maybe there are flower elves just as there are shoemaker ones.

When I was a kid, Sunday was a quiet day, a family day. We went to church and sometimes we’d visit my grandmother. My Sundays now also have a pattern. I had a cup of coffee and read one newspaper then went out for breakfast. I called my sister at 11 for our usual Sunday conversation where we catch up with each other up and chat about books and movies. When I finish here, I’ll read my other two papers. I’ll probably take a short nap on the couch in the later afternoon. Tonight my friends and I will watch The Amazing Race and have dinner together.

I love my Sundays!

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“Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them.”

April 9, 2011

Today is perfectly lovely though still a bit chilly at 48°. It’s the lack of any breeze which makes the day feel almost warm. The cats have staked their claim in the sun streaming through the front door. Gracie is outside playing with her pal Cody. He leaves his own house, runs here and barks at the door to come in and play with Gracie in the backyard. When they’re done, I let him in and open the front door. He runs home and leaves an exhausted Gracie behind him.

The Red Sox won their first game yesterday. It was against the Yankees and was a see-saw game until the seventh. I’m thinking being home was all they needed. Yaz threw out the first pitch and Johnny Pesky said, ” Play Ball!” I love tradition.

I used to own lovely stationery. In the corner of every sheet was an embossed K. Having that box made me feel special. Though I haven’t any of those sheets left, I still have some boxes of note cards left over from the days of handwriting. I’d send a thank note for gifts and special evenings. I haven’t done that in a long while; instead, I write an e-mail or make a phone call, but they just aren’t the same. Taking the time to write a note elevates the gift and the gift giver. I think it’s time for me to go back to that lovely tradition of  giving thanks in a special way.

When I was in Ghana, I sent blue aerogramms. My writing was tiny, and I filled every open space. My mother saved several of those, and I love reading them. They aren’t filled with exciting travels or stories of marvels, but they give a chronicle of my every day activities, my students and my trips to the market or my rare evenings out at the Hotel d’Bull for a movie. Back then, I thought the news quite boring, but I knew my family would be thrilled to read about Ghana and what I was doing. I never thought I’d be reading them forty years later.

Writing letters has gone out of style and been replaced by e-mails and blogs. I imagine, though, I too would have had a blog of my adventures in Ghana, but I do love having my letters and re-reading them. They are a narration, a log, not dependent on an internet connection. They are far more substantial.

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