I keep checking my hands and feet for webbing. It is raining, again, and it is supposed to rain all day. I was going to do a couple of errands, but I’ve decided to stay home, to stay warm and dry. 

My muse has gone to sunnier climes. I don’t blame her. We seem to be stuck in the last bit of winter. The next few nights will be downright cold, down to the 30’s. Where did I put my mittens? I need to wear a bed cap like Scrooge and the man in The Night Before Christmas did. I’d like mine to be colorful. Their’s were white.

I remember my hometown so very well. I was roamer, sometimes on foot but mostly on my bike. There used to be a small train, a narrow gauge, which took riders through the trees behind the China Moon and Hago Harrington’s miniature golf course. Sunnyhurst Dairy’s bottling plant was close to the route of the train. Sunnyhurst also sold ice cream, cones and such, from the front of the brick building near where the Italian bakery is now. My friend Pat and I used to stop there. I have a couple of Sunnyhurst milk bottles. The square had an army-navy store. I never shopped there, but I wish I could now. The town horse barn faced the road behind the town hall. It was one of my stops. I think if I could go back in time, I’d go back to the the late 50’s, early 60’s, and spend a Saturday on my bike riding all over town. 

I have shelves filled with cookbooks. I store many of the books in wooden boxes against one wall here in the den. The boxes are old. One is from a cranberry bog and is labeled 1982. Another is a Gnome beverages box. A beverages’ box has slots for bottle storage, for 12 bottles of flavored drinks sold at a small plant I remember was near the Fellsway. I have an insulated Hood box which used to sit on the back steps of our house. The milkman left the bottles of milk in it so the milk could stay cold. Many of the books are Christmas books filled with crafts and recipes. My mother used to send me one every year. 

The floor to ceiling bookcase in the kitchen is filled with all sorts of stuff. I have a collection of glass cocktail shakers and old drink stirrers, some from TWA and hotels and bars which are long gone. My favorite cookbooks are ones with recipes from books like Nancy Drew, Barbara Pym, Anne of Green Gables and Shakespeare. I have an ugly collection of souvenirs. A fondue pot is on one shelf. Dishes and bowls are on the lower shelves. 

I love all my collections.

The rain has stopped. The morning is cloudy and damp. We have pre-spring temperatures, in the mid 40’s. The dogs are content to stay inside. Henry is napping on my bed upstairs while Nala is here the couch. The house is quiet.  

 Nothing much is happening. I have no plans, no necessary chores. Yesterday I watered plants and cleaned the den. That was more than enough.

When I was young, my mother read to me. She read me Golden Books and fairy tales. My favorite story was Chicken Little, aka Henny Penny. The story starts with her panic after she is hit on the head by a falling pinecone, “The sky is falling!” She goes to tell the king, and, on the way, tells all the animals she meets on the road. The animals have the best names like Turkey Lurky, Goosey Loosey, Ducky Lucky and Foxy Loxy. That last one was a mistake. Foxy Loxy ate all the other animals. I remember the whole book except for the ending, the eating part. Maybe my mother didn’t read it to me or maybe the horror erased it from my memory.

I loved fairy tales. The ones I remember most had happy endings. the good guys won. Most, though, were a bit violent, but I cheered because the bad guys got what they deserved. Hansel and Gretel’s witch was going to eat them. Gretel tricked the witch who ended up on the oven. The Three Little Pigs hoodwinked the fox who was looking for dinner. The Billy Goats Gruff did in the troll who was waiting to eat a goat. Little Red Riding Hood’s wolf was hoping to dine on Little Red. Some fairy tales didn’t end in dinner like The Ugly Duckling, Snow White and Cinderella, but there were trials and tribulations they had to endure. 

 I read all the classics. I read the three Little books: Little Women, Little Men and Jo’s Boys. I was a Robert Lewis Stephenson fan. My favorite was Treasure Island, but a close second was Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I think it was my first horror book. Robinson Crusoe, The Secret Garden and so many more were in personal library. My favorite of all was The Wind in the Willows. I still have a copy.

Every now and then I read one of those books again. Treasure Island was the last one I read. When I was young, the characters and the action held me enthralled. Now I appreciate how the metaphors, the similes and the imagery deepen the language, the descriptions of places and people. Long John Silver is the best character but the most treacherous character. I remember my shock when I found out he was a bad guy. 

I think I might just read Kidnapped next.