While the coffee was brewing, we, the dogs and I, watched the birds from the deck as they flew in and out of the feeders. A couple of the feeders need to be refilled. The birds are eating me out of house and home. I have only a small bag of sunflower seeds left. I noticed a mourning dove this morning. I’ll have to get mixed seeds and throw some below the deck as doves are ground feeders.

Last night was cold. I shut all the windows and wore a sweatshirt. I was glad the dogs snuggled while we were in bed. This morning I checked the weather for the week. The heat will be back on Thursday and Friday. The sweatshirt will be put away and the windows reopened for the meantime.

My walk to school wasn’t very far. In my mind’s eye I can see everything on that walk, the walk I took going and coming for eight years. Most of it was a straightaway. Older houses lined the sidewalk. Maple trees shaded the walk. I remember one house, probably the oldest house, was below the height of the sidewalk. A set of steps led down to the house. I always wondered how the house got there. I crossed the tracks, the same tracks I sometimes walked which led to the station. I only had to cross one road before I arrived at school.

When I was a kid, I ate some vegetables. I loved corn, even creamy corn which spread across my plate. I ate peas but only baby peas. Carrots were hidden, mixed with mashed potatoes. I never questioned the color of the potatoes. We ate canned beans, yellow and green, and French green beans. I loved potatoes of any sort, especially mashed. We ate French fries mostly on Friday nights with the fish sticks. My father ate canned asparagus. It always flopped over on his fork. He never did like fresh asparagus.

When I was a kid, the future was the next day or, if I was being farsighted, the weekend. The only times I was keeping track of days were the countdowns before Halloween and before Christmas. I’m sort of back to that now. I keep a dance card of events for the week. That is as far in the future as I need to know. Time takes care of itself.

I will never tire of these lovely days. This morning’s air has a coolness leftover from last night. A bright sun is framed by the deepest blue sky. The trees in the back are still so ladened with green leaves much of the yard is in shadows with only a spot of sun here and there. The birds are dining and taking turns at the feeders. The dogs are sleeping. I am drinking my second cup of coffee. We are all content.

When I was a kid, Sundays always started with mass. I didn’t have a choice. The alternative was a mortal sin symbolized in my catechism by a blackened milk bottle and an afterlife of eternal damnation in the fire pits of hell. I was afraid of both so I went to mass every Sunday. When I was younger, I paid attention and gave all the correct responses in Latin. When I was older, I sometimes smuggled in a book surreptitiously and sat in a corner to read it. With my head bowed while I was reading, I looked pious.

Today is another one of those days when my muses have deserted me. I wrote a few ideas, but they didn’t lead anywhere so I deleted them. One was about fashion. I had little fashion sense when I growing up. I always wore a uniform so it didn’t matter, but I do remember one Christmas when I got the best clothes, fashionable clothes, what everyone was wearing. I got a pink fuzzy sweater, a bright pink fuzzy sweater. I got ski pants, black stirrup ski pants, and a pullover ski jacket which had a zipper from the top and a zippered pocket. I wore it all the time even on the coldest days.

The spiders are taking over. Every day there are new webs and rebuild webs. This morning I saw a web which crisscrossed from one leg to another to another on a dining room chair. It is gone now. The top of one lampshade has a new web every morning. Other webs stretch from one frond to another on some plants. I have become frenzied in my search.

This uke week includes practice, my lesson and two concerts.