The morning is again lovely with a bright sun, a breeze and lots of blue. It will be in the low 60’s today and the 40’s tonight, a typical spring day on Cape Cod. Yesterday’s uke concert was great fun. The crowd seemed to love the music.

Today is an open day, a no to do list day though there is much to do. I’ll just pick and choose. The kitchen floor is so dirty it is embarrassing. Every time I think to wash it rain is predicted. Light showers are predicted for tomorrow. I figure my floor and I bring rain. Henry should be bald given the giant fur balls of white hair all over the house. I probably will vacuum. Maybe I should shave Henry instead.

At school, when I was a kid, we celebrated May as Mary’s month. We had the May procession toward the end of the month. We started practicing the songs every day to get ready. We sang the same songs each year so even now I still remember them.

The parish complex was part of a square block. The church, the old school and the rectory were on one side of the street. The convent was on the other side. The May procession started from the school grounds and wound its way passed houses and the new school around the block. All of the school marched. The second graders wore their first communion clothes. The person crowning Mary walked at the end. The destination was the grotto beside the church where a statue of Mary was in a niche off the ground on the right side of the grotto. They put a small staircase against the grotto so the crowner could reach the statue. The crowner is always an eighth grader. It drives my friend Maria crazy that I crowned the statue. She always says, “Of course you did.” What I remember was how scary the staircase was as I was wearing a long white dress, an old wedding dress, with a train. The priest held my hand as I ascended the stairs. At the, “Mary, we crown thee with blossoms today, “ I placed the flowered crown on the statue then carefully descended the stairs. We marched around the corner to end the procession.

My dance card is dependent on the kindness of friends, my uke friends. I have my usual practice and lesson and also two concerts.

I am actively seeking a car.

Yesterday I was out and about with my friend so I didn’t get time to muse. I was able to get some errands done, including filling the larder. Today I have a concert and another friend is picking me up. Being without a car on Cape Cod is challenging at best so I am so grateful for my friends.

I am a night person. Usually the dogs and I head to bed around two. I let them out first then we all go upstairs. This early morning I stood on the deck while the dogs were in the yard. It was after 2:30. The night was warmish. I noticed lights in a few of the houses. Most nights only mine are lit. The house across the streets had all its outside lights on. I wondered if she heard or saw something. The house behind mine often has one lit room. This time several windows showed lights. I could see outside lights lit on houses on the street behind mine. The house a bit down the next street usually has a picture window lit most of the night. I noticed several lights this time. I found all these lights puzzling. The night was so quiet I heard nothing except the dogs rustling in the yard. Did Henry and I miss something?

Today is brilliant. I can see patches of the bluest sky through the leaves of the backyard trees. Only a few scattered white clouds mar the deep blue. The sun is bright and warm. It will be in the 70’s today.

I have never been fond of Sundays. Even as a kid, I wasn’t welcoming to the day. Sundays started with church, with mass. I had no choice but to go. I didn’t want to risk mortal sin, that black bottle in my catechism. I drifted off during the sermons. They were always a bit dire. I was a kid. Eternal damnation seemed a bit over the top. The best sermons were the short sermons. I liked the downstairs at my church where mass was quick and usually sermonless. I didn’t even mind standing in the back if the pews were filled. Upstairs was grand with stained glass windows, fancy carvings on the ends of the pews and a huge altar. There was always a long sermon. The priests took full advantage of captive audiences. Two altar boys dressed in starched black and white sort of short cassocks led the priest in and helped during the mass. It seemed endless.

Sunday was saved by dinner. It was always the best meal of the week. My favorite was roast beef. It was medium well and accompanied by mashed potatoes, a thick gravy and a couple of vegetables. My favorites were peas and corn, kernel corn, not creamed. I didn’t like that it spread. That was the dinner my mother cooked for me before I left for Ghana.

Well, I need to get ready to leave. I’ll finish this blog when I get home.