Snow is predicted starting tonight, our first real snow of the winter. Five inches are possible. I have pre-snow chores and errands before I hunker down. Mostly I need animal stuff, things like bird seed, ice melt safe for the dogs and a few of cans of dog food. As for this human, I only need cream for my coffee, but I’m also thinking a bit of chocolate, maybe a whoopie pie. 

I wouldn’t have thought snow is predicted. Today is pretty with a light blue sky and muted sun. It is cold, but it is February, our coldest, snowiest month. 

Where I lived in Ghana was the hottest part of the country. We had two seasons, the rainy and the dry. This time of year, the harmattan, had the worst weather. The days were the hottest, the nights the coldest. The air was dry and dusty from sand blown down from the Sahara. It looked like brown fog and made for poor visibility so even driving was difficult. I remember getting a deep cough from all that dust. My students called it a catarrh. My lips and feet cracked. I’d line my shower room walls with filled buckets of water for bucket baths as the water was often turned off. The nights were cold. I loved feeling cold and snuggling under a wool blanket on my bed. That same blanket is folded on the back part of my couch. I never realized back then how really scratchy it is.

The harmattan had some advantages. The mosquitos disappeared. Laundry dried quickly. There was less humidity and less sweat. I remember passing compounds and seeing corn and onions spread out so they could dry and last longer. 

The disadvantages outweighed the advantages. It never rained. Everything was dried and brown. The surfaces in my house were covered in dust, always, even after being cleaned. The market had fewer fruits and vegetables. I had my fill of tomatoes and onions. I’d have to take bucket baths as there was often no water for my shower. I did get quite adept at using only half a bucket. 

There were family compounds in the field behind my house. During the dry season, with no farming, they worked on the compounds fixing the clay walls and the thatched roofs. During the night, we could hear drums and sometimes the stamping of feet as they danced the traditional FraFra dance. I always felt lucky to live in the Upper Region where tradition was always respected. Once in a while I’d even dance.

I always felt lucky to live in the Upper Region where tradition was always respected. Once in a while I’d even dance.