Today is chilly, fall chilly. The wind is strong. I can the chimes from my backyard. They have a sweet sound. The dogs are outside enjoying the weather. Last night they went wild. Henry leapt off the couch and moved quicker than I’d ever seen him. Nala followed. They barked at the front door then ran out the back. This went on for a while. I knew they had sensed a critter. Henry was protective. Nala was thinking prey. I opened the front door but saw nothing. This morning I checked, and the trash bag by the steps had been opened and a few things pulled out. The bag goes into the trunk today for my next dump run.

I can hear all of you scolding me, but I chose caution so you can save your scolding for another day. It all started yesterday when I noticed my ceiling light in the kitchen was too dim. I pulled out my old step ladder and placed it as close to under the light as I could. I climbed two steps. The ladder moved from side to side. Knowing my history, I took the movement as a warning and got off. I have another step ladder, a good one, a safe one, but it is heavy and was in the closet. I got it anyway. Changing the dead bulb was the worst experience, but here I am unscathed.

My father never let a lack of ability stop him from from trying to repair house problems. I remember when he worked on the toilet. Afterwards, my mother called a plumber who wanted to know who destroyed the insides of the toilet. He got shocked a few times when he tried to fix lights. When I was younger, he cut all his fingers on one hand trying to fix the fan. My favorite was when I looked out the window and saw him sitting on a branch and sawing it. I called my mother over to watch. My father was sitting on the wrong side of the branch. He was sawing himself out of the tree. He hit the ground, but it was only a little way below the branch which is why I didn’t tell him.

My dance card is fairly empty this week. I have uke practice and a lesson, and those are the only events. I do have chores, but I am of the mindset that chores can always wait.

The day is dark, and it is already raining though only a little rain so far, a spitting rain. The morning is warmish at 67°. The air is still. I’m staying home all day. I have a few things I can do around the house, but I’m waffling between being a sloth and being productive.

When I was a kid, the future was tomorrow except for the countdowns to special days like Christmas and Halloween. I had a regimen every weekday of school and after school play time. I never really complained. It wasn’t as if I had a choice. Besides, I liked school. Saturday was my day. It was anything I wanted it to be. Sunday was family day, staying around the house for Sunday dinner and maybe Sunday visits with family. The weeks were the same, but I was every kid.

I lived in a project, one with duplexes. We all had lawns, backyards and clotheslines. There were kids everywhere. I never really noticed we didn’t have much money. We had everything we needed. We had a few away vacations, but most were daycations to special places like museums and lakes and the beach. We went to the drive-in almost weekly. When I was 15 or 16, we went to Niagara Falls. That was our biggest vacation ever. I still remember my dad talking to a wax figure when he was trying to buy tickets to Madame Tussauds. He asked over and over, more impatient and louder each time. That is one of my favorite Dad stories.

I have fulfilled the childhood promise I made to myself, the one to travel, but my expectations back then were low. Traveling for weeks in South America and living in Africa for over two years never entered my head. I was thinking England. How lucky I have been.

We are still enjoying the most amazing weather. It is already 70°. The sky is partly cloudy, but every now and then the sun owns the sky and highlights all the leaves and trees. I am going to the dump today, to Agway to buy some cat food and one more stop for a few groceries, boring errands at best.

Last night Henry came inside but Nala didn’t. I was a bit worried as I still have Gracie and her jumping the fence in mind so with flashlight in hand, I went Nala hunting. She didn’t come when I called. I flashed the light all over the yard and finally saw her in the dark the back. I could also see something in her mouth and saw it was a possum. I didn’t chase her but kept approaching her. She dropped it, and I dragged her into the house. Later I went outside and moved the possum to the driveway out of the yard. I thought I saw it move but I wasn’t sure. This morning it was gone. I hope it was on its own feet and not in the mouth of a predator.

My socks, when I was a kid, usually lost the elastic on the top. I’d wear them anyway, but I had to endure the socks slipping into my shoes. I’d stop to pull them back up but gravity and no elasticity won every time. I walked on the lump in my shoes.

I knew how to button my clothes, but sometimes I mismatched the button to the hole. At the bottom of my jacket one side was longer than the other. I didn’t really care. I just figured buttoned is buttoned. It was sort of the same with zippers. I’d try to get one side into the other but sometimes failed without realizing it. I’d zip it up but the zipper would only go up one side. It took a bit patience to get the zipper right.

I am watching a video from a train ride in Ghana on African Walk Videos. It is as if were sitting there looking out the train window. I have always loved trains, even subway trains. Whenever I can, I have ridden trains when I travel. I look out the window and see everyday life. I am not a part of it but immersed in it.

Today I feel as if I were in a scene from the Sound of Music, the one where Maria with arms outstretched turns around on the mountain to take in the beauty of the hills. The day is that pretty, as warm and beautiful.

The morning is quiet. An every now and then breeze stirs the leaves. The sun is strong. It is already 70°. Nala stays outside stretched on the grass in the sun. Henry sleeps upstairs on my bed. They live the good life.

I ran amok. I washed and waxed the kitchen floor, the bathroom floor, the stairs and the hall. The members of the sloth club were considering removing me until I swore no more cleaning.

The cape is in its fall mode. The mornings are a bit chilly, but the days are a delight. Traffic is much lighter. When I travel at night, there are far fewer cars. The cranberry bogs are red with cranberries. Some have already been harvested. I’ve seen Halloween yard decorations, even stopped to take a picture of one. This is my favorite season on Cape Cod.

Even when I was a kid, I loved the fall. I’d walk in the gutters and kick the leaves as high as I could into the air. The dry leaves crackled under my feet. My father raked the yard every Saturday. He’d then burn the leaves, my favorite fall ritual. When it got colder, he’d remove the window screens and put up the storm windows. That was always a bit scary. The storm windows had to be lifted onto hooks using both hands. It was a miracle my father never fell nor, as far as I can remember, did a window.

On cold mornings, my mother used to make us a hot breakfast to fortify us for the walk to school. My favorite was soft boiled eggs with a side of cut toast for dipping. I didn’t even mind oatmeal especially with milk and sugar. I guess this must be a Julie Andrews’ day. She knew the benefit of sugar. It even made the medicine go down let alone oatmeal.

My play clothes changed from summer to fall, from shorts to dungarees and short sleeves to long. My mother started to insist I wear a sweater or a light jacket to school. On the way home, when the day was warmer, I’d tie it round my waist.

As for today, I’ll be home. I have a couple of chores but neither will put my sloth status in jeopardy.

Today is a lovely day, an almost perfect fall day. The sun, missing for a while, has returned. Its light glints through the trees, and I can see blue sky through the oak branches. It is 67°. Lately Nala has come into the house from the yard with wet fur. Today her fur was warm. She had been lying in the grass soaking in the warmth.

This is a slow uke week. Last week it was four events: a practice, my lesson and two concerts. This week I have no concerts. We are starting a new book, cowboy music.

I have a short to-do list. I need to water the plants and wash my kitchen floor which is covered in muddy paw prints.

My sister and I always contend we grew up during the best of times. We could roam. I always think we were probably the last of the roamers. I’d get on my bike and be gone the whole day. My mother never worried. I’d walk home in the dark from drill, and my mother never worried. I never worried either. She had given us her motherly warning about never accepting candy from a stranger, and I didn’t, but the only time that warning kicked in was in a subway station. I was with my uncle, two years older than I, and my brother. We were going to the MDC pool near the science museum. I was standing by myself when a man approached me. I remember he had bad teeth, rotted in the front. He had a hat. That’s all I remember about him. He told me if I wanted candy I needed to follow him. He was the one person I had been warned about. I got scared and ran to my uncle and told him. He didn’t believe me, but I was safe so I didn’t care what he thought. When I was older and thinking about it, I figured that man’s mother had never gave him the candy from stranger warning or he would have known my reaction. I never told my mother until I was an adult.

I like to sift through my memory drawers to see what I might find. That subway incident was never lost. It has always stayed with me.

The weather report from my Hey Google says it is sunny. It is lighter than the last few days but definitely not yet sunny, but I have hope. I think there is a glimmer. The temperature is 64°. The house is warmer than it has been. I have a cricket. I heard it this morning.

When I was a kid, Sunday was a lost day. It was church in the morning, dinner in the afternoon and occasional trips to my grandparents. It was also early to bed with my mother reminding us we had school in the morning, as if we needed reminding.

We always called our school St. Pat’s. The other kids went to the East School, but we didn’t call it by name. It was just public school which wasn’t meant to be derogatory. It was just a distinction. The other distinction is they wore regular clothes. We wore school uniforms except on scout days when we wore scout uniforms. At first there were lots of brownies, but as we got older, there were fewer Girl Scouts. I stayed.

Considering I never had a plane ride until I was in college, I have had the neatest experiences. That first plane was a small prop from Hyannis to Boston. In Ghana, I also rode a prop between Accra and Tamale. I took a helicopter between LaGuardia and Kennedy. That it rose straight up was the neatest part.

My sister and I took a balloon ride. We arrived at dawn to watch the balloon be inflated. It was in the fall, the last possible weekend for flight. I remember the sound of the gas as we floated. We were one of four balloons in the air. We could see people wearing robes and housecoats coming out of their houses to see us. We flew over a pig farm and scared the pigs. I took pictures of the balloon reflected in a pond. I could see the chase car following us. Though we practiced for a tipped basket landing, we landed perfectly then drank champagne to celebrate. On the bottom of the glass was a pin, a replica of the balloon.

On one beautiful late summer day, my friend and I took turns in a glider. I remember being pulled into the air by the small plane connected to us with a rope. When we were in the air, the pilot let me disengage the rope. We glided over the ocean. It was so quiet I could only hear the wind. We turned soundlessly. We landed on the grass. The wings tipped.

I have taken plane rides to the most remarkable places. I flew from Argentina to Uruguay over the water in a small plane. I flew over the Andes. They seemed so close I could almost touch them. I flew from Niamey to Ougadougou and arrived an hour before I left. Plane rides have taken me to places I had dreamed of when I was a kid. I am still amazed.

Rain, Rain, Go Away! Today is another ugly day. It will rain off and on all day and stay in the low 60’s. Right now the rain is on again. Our concert was cancelled. The event wasn’t, but we can’t play in the rain so I get to stay home cozy, dry and warm.

It is science fiction Saturday. I am now being entertained by The Atomic Submarine with a great opening of wonderfully eerie music. I like to watch the list of lesser actors as sometimes I recognize a few of the names. Here I didn’t. The special effects aren’t great, but this was released in 1959. It seems one of the atomic subs has been destroyed and other ships have gone missing from their polar route. The Tigershark, a high tech sub, will hunt the cause of these disasters. I haven’t seen the whole movie, but the villain is extraterrestrial. There is a voiceover to fill the plot gaps.

I feel lazy today. I suspect it will be a sloth day. My to-do list is no shorter than it has been, but I have no guilt about it. Chores will get done sometime.

I like naps. I even used to take them in the heat of the afternoon in Ghana. For two hours, during siesta time, the stores and even the post office closed. My students rested in their dorms.

Traveling in Ghana was an adventure. During school holidays, I’d take the bus to Accra which was 364 miles away. A car ride only took 6 1/2 hours, but I was seldom lucky enough to find a ride. Sometimes I’d take the state bus which had a schedule and took about the same amount of time as a car to get to Accra. Other times I’d take a bus from the lorry park, the cheapest ride, where I’d have to wait until the bus filled before it left. People were even crammed in the aisle. The bus made frequent stops adding to the travel time. I’d buy food offered through the window usually by women. It took hours to get to Accra. The best and quickest way was by plane from Tamale which took about an hour and was sort of expensive. I didn’t take that too often.

In Ghana, I learned be a patient traveler.

The morning is chilly at 64°. It is also cloudy. It is a day to stay close to hearth and home. Luckily my dance card is empty for today, but I still have a to-do list of the chores I didn’t do yesterday because I got an e-mail telling me about a uke mini-concert not on the schedule. I had to dress quickly and get on the road. The concert was at an assisted living facility. They were a wonderful audience clapping and singing along. We are still singing bluegrass. I have a concert tomorrow if the rain holds off, my fifth uke event of the week.

Cats throw up. My cat has an uncanny ability to throw up exactly where I walk. Before I go to bed, I go into the dark room to give Jack night pats and food. I walk to the table to turn on the light. I walk on something squishy.

I like pasta, but I am not fond of spaghetti though I’ll eat it if it’s served to me. Spaghetti just takes too much effort. At my aunt’s house, the aunt whose husband owned a fish market, I tasted spaghetti with clam sauce for the first time. I was surprised I liked it. I never thought clams and spaghetti could be a thing.

Though I love seafood, I don’t like salmon. A pink fish just seems wrong to me. My mother told me that when she was a kid the traditional July Fourth dinner was salmon and peas. She ate it poached in an egg sauce. Once on a British Air flight to Germany from London, I was upgraded to first class. Dinner was salmon without the peas. I didn’t eat it.

When I was a kid, they took my field and swamp away and built what my father called wrinkle city, apartments for the elderly. I remember a fire in one of them. We kids all gathered and watched the firefighters. We watched them put out the fire and bring a lady out on a stretcher. She was burned. I can still see it in my mind’s eye.

Henry just scared me. He was sleeping then jumped up and barked. He had heard a dog on TV. I patted him and thanked him for saving me. I didn’t explain about the TV.

We are in the house is colder than outside season of the year. It was only 64° in the house but 66° outside when we got out of bed. The dogs have been in and out a couple of times. They are now having their morning naps, not to be confused with their afternoon and evening naps. I’ll be home today. I have a few chores, the first of which is putting in the storm doors so I can leave the inside doors open.

I have had favorites spots in favorite places. In my hometown, one was the swamp in a grove in the woods close to my house. My two favorite swamp seasons were spring and winter. In the winter the swamp froze over, and we ice skated. We’d also follow the small frozen canals from the main swamp to where the swamp ended. The rest of the year the banks by those canals were too overgrown to fight the underbrush to go beyond the grove. What was neat was the ice was so clear I could see the wild grass looking windblown but frozen in time. In the spring the tadpoles flitted in the water close to the edge. I used to lie on my stomach to watch them. I’d go often to the swamp to watch the tadpoles become frogs. First they had legs then tails.

I’d visit the horses in the town’s barn. It was around the corner from the junkman’s house. He used to go up and down the streets in his wagon asking for paper and rags. Back then, my town was far more colorful, filled with unique people and places. I remember the sharpener man on his bicycle, the noisy milkman with his bottles hitting his wire carrier and the trash men hanging off the backs of their trucks.

In Ghana, I loved one stretch of road between Bolga, where I lived, and Navrongo, some 18 miles north. I lived in the savannah so trees were scarce. Mostly there were baobab, tamarind and pawpaw, but on that one stretch were mahogany trees lined up on each side of the road. I always stopped, thrilled at the beauty of those trees shading the road in the hottest part of Ghana.

Here on the cape, there are too many places to list, but I think my favorite is anywhere with a view of the ocean. The winter ocean is the one I love the most with its wind and white crested waves beating the beach. When I stand on the shore, I feel small in the face of the wind and water.

We’re still stuck with a cloudy day and a chill in the air. The high will only be in the low 60’s, and the clouds will hang around all day. Today is an ugly day, a socks and sweatshirt day.

My uke and I will be busy this week. My dance card is filled with uke events starting tonight with my usual practice. Tomorrow is my lesson and a concert. The second concert is Saturday. When will I fit in my naps?

When I think about growing up, I remember walking and biking all over my town. I used to go to the square. Back then it was filled with stores. My favorite was Woolworths. It seemed like a kids’ store with its toy counter and comic books on a spinning rack. The floor was wooden and squeaky. The shelves too were wooden. None of them were tall. I’d have a dime. I could buy a comic book or a balsa plane or even jacks. There were yo-yos, but I was really bad with yo-yo tricks, no sleeping and no walking the dog. If getting knots in the string was a trick, that one I could do. Most times I’d buy a comic book. It lasted. Balsa planes didn’t. Jacks were my second choice. My mother had taught me jacks, and I never could beat her. I used to get them in my stocking and sometimes my Easter basket so I had assorted jacks and small red rubber balls stored in cigar boxes. I’d spin the comics carousel and then pick my comic book. I was partial to Little Lulu, Archie, Casper or Superman. I remember stopping on my way home to sit on a bench by the town hall to read my new comic.

At the drug store, I’d sometimes sit at the soda fountain and buy a vanilla coke. I’d watch my coke being made with a squirt of coke syrup, some vanilla and soda water. I always used a straw, back then a paper straw. My favorite stop was Middlesex Drugs. It was the best with its marbled topped soda fountain and spinning red covered stools. I always shopped there at Christmas for the usual, a handkerchief for my father and perfume for my mother. I doubt my mother ever used the cheap perfume, but she always gushed when she opened the present.

Now, the only places where I enjoy shopping are the small shops, the one and only shops though I make one exception, the Ben Franklin store. It is a throwback. I swear it was a Woolworth’s in its other life.