The morning is cloudy but warm, 72°. I’m going to collect branches so I can be working outside enjoying the lovely weather. The dogs stay out much longer on days like today. Nala sleeps on a patch of grass in the sun. Henry is near the deck just sitting and watching the world. They appreciate the day.

When I was a little kid, I didn’t have many decisions I needed to make. I wore uniforms to school so I didn’t need to choose an outfit. I had school shoes which doubled as church shoes. I had church clothes, dresses or skirts. I had play clothes. The first thing I did after school every day was to change from my school clothes to my play clothes. That had been ingrained in me as soon as first grade, and it stayed with me all of my life. I never gave it any thought. It just was.

My father always claimed I had a wise mouth. He didn’t mean it as a compliment. He meant I answered him back. I even answered his rhetorical questions. That bothered him the most. My favorite was, “What do you think you’re doing?” I figured that deserved an answer. My father didn’t agree. His, “How many times do I have to tell you,” was also rhetorical, but I gave him an answer anyway. My mother’s favorite was, “Just wait until your father gets home.” When I was little, it scared me, but as I got older, I considered it an idle threat. At some point when I was older, the threats and questions stopped. I don’t remember when.

Spring and summer are noisy seasons. My windows are open so I hear all the sounds. The birds sing to welcome the dawn. On a breezy day, I can hear the winds chimes. Their sound sweetens the air. Henry barks if anyone dares walk by my house. He has a deep bark. At night, when he is outside, it can be disconcerting. At night, I can hear the frogs who live by the tiny pond at the end of my street. The crickets and katydids chirp, and sometimes I even hear the cicadas buzzing. The night is alive.

I know all the sounds my house makes. At night, it creaks and groans. The dogs’ paws click on the wood floors. Sometimes when both dogs run down the stairs they sound like a herd of buffalos. My street is small so I know when a car goes by the house. Henry sometimes barks. He is my protector.

As for today, I can hear the leaves rustling and the chimes ringing.

This is the sort of morning which should be greeted with Maria singing on the hill about the Sound of Music or Curly greeting the day with Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’. It is already 69°. The air is so still the leaves barely move. The brilliant sun is framed by a Crayola blue sky. I think I’ll work a bit outside today clearing branches, cleaning Nala trash and hanging my Peace Corps flag.

When I was a kid, I loved days like today. I’d rush out of school, just about run home, change from my school clothes then go out and play or go out and explore. We’d play games like Red Rover, Hide and Seek or Red Light, Green Light. We’d play on the street. There were never many cars but there were packs of kids divided by ages. If we explored, we’d go through the woods or to the swamp to check for tadpoles. The swamp had a grassy part right by the edge. I’d lie on my stomach and watch the tadpoles. They just swam and ate. I’d keep checking the swamp to watch the tadpoles get legs and tails and turn into frogs. I’d check the wild blueberry bushes. Mostly it was too early.

We got to play outside well into the afternoon this time of year. The days were longer, and the streetlights were later. It was closer to supper when my mother called out the door for us. We’d sit and watch TV for a bit until my mother finished cooking. Supper was chicken or ground beef, potatoes and a vegetable. My mother always served vegetables we’d eat. We all loved corn, ears of corn or canned kernel corn. I was not a fan of creamed corn. It was messy and looked like baby food. We’d have cookies for dessert and watch TV.

My kitchen floor is a disgrace. All that rain and dogs’ wet paws left streaks of dirt. I need to make a to-do list with washing the kitchen floor at the top. I won’t add a time table. I’d hate to be hoisted with my own petard.