If you look in the dictionary at the definition of fall, you’d see a description of today. The sun is brilliant. The sky is a Crayola blue, a perfect cerulean color. The every now and then breeze ruffles even the top most branches. It is 49° but will reach the mid-50’s today. I didn’t get out yesterday so today is dump day. I did fill the bird feeders. This morning, I watched out the window while my coffee was brewing. For the first time, a couple of blue jays dropped by but didn’t stay. I was glad. They are pigs who scare away the small birds. The chickadees came right back.

I spent too much of the time I have remaining here on Earth on the phone this morning. I was trying to refill a prescription. I jumped between two web sites trying to find a person. I was not successful, but I got close. My patience, not my long suit, finally gave out so I’ll try again tomorrow.

In Ghana, time was described as European or Ghanaian. Even though I was from the US, I was considered European because I am white. If you invited Ghanaians to your house, they would always ask Ghanaian or European time. European time was punctual. Ghanaian time was whenever. When I traveled a distance, I used to take government buses because they left on time. Local lorries left when they were full. I’d sit in the shade sometimes for a few hours before the lorry would leave. I have never been as patient as I was when I lived in Ghana.

When I was a kid, the time of day was only important on weekdays and Sunday mornings, for school and for church. My mother was the timekeeper. She made sure we were never late. She always added a few extra minutes in case we meandered. All the rest of the time was ours. We didn’t need watches. After school we played outside until the streetlights turned on, later in summer and earlier in winter. Saturdays were timeless. I just needed to be home for supper.

As for now, I don’t wear a watch. Most of every day is mine to do what I want or to do nothing, which is often my choice. Time is only important if I have an obligation like an appointment. I just make sure I leave to arrive on time.

The dump closes at 4. I figure to leave the house no later than 3:30. My next obligation is uke practice on Tuesday. Until then, I’m on my own.

The morning is cloudy and still. It will stay partly cloudy all day or partly sunny if you lean toward optimism. It is 58° and won’t get much higher. I have a couple of errands including the dump. I have a couple of chores, fill the feeders and water the plants, a sort of fauna and floral list.

Yesterday, after my concert, I took the long way home. I saw ghosts, giant black cats, pumpkins and one shark in front of houses on the back road. I noticed many of the trees have bare branches and fallen leaves cover the sides of the road. Fall is winding down and will soon have to make way for winter. Here in New England, every season has its turn.

When I think back, I remember places and people now gone. They sit waiting in my memory drawers for their turn to be recalled. If I close my eyes, I can see moments frozen in time.

When I was a kid, we moved out of the city, out of South Boston. I was four and already a city kid. I played on the hot top behind our apartment building in between the clothes lines, on the sidewalks and on the parking lot across the street. I have memories of back then. I can still see the tall chain link fence around the lines in the backyard. I’d climb it and then jump off. I jumped off backwards a few times then had my mother watch my grand feat. When I landed, I hurt my wrist bracing myself. It was my worst performance. My mother told me the after story. She was worried about my wrist and called my grandfather. He told her to move it a bit. I was sleeping at the time. She told him I never moved or made a sound. I just kept sleeping. My grandfather suggested she have it x-rayed. The wrist was fractured. I was quite proud of my cast.

Soon after we moved, my brother and I went exploring. We walked down the hill out of the neighborhood. We saw a stream behind some houses and checked it out. We put small branches in the stream and watched them float. We built a bit of a dam with rocks. We stayed there a while. I still remember where the stream was. It is gone now, but the houses are still there. We kept wandering. We didn’t realize we were lost explorers. Our parents got worried. The police found us walking on the sidewalk a distance from the house. I thought it was an adventure, my very first adventure.