The heat is cranking. It is a cold morning at 49°. It won’t get much warmer. The day, though, is pretty but best seen from inside, out the window. We have bright sun, a blue sky and a breeze, sometimes even a wind. I have no reason to leave the house. I will stay warm and cozy inside.

When I was a kid, I had a small turntable for my records. It was its own carrying case. The records were yellow and red, 78’s. I remember Frosty the Snowman, Home on the Range and a few Disney songs. I used to sing along. I still have a few of those records in an old record case, and I bought a turn table a few years back so I could listen to my old records, the 33 and 1/3 albums, my LP’s, and my 45’s. The record player came with a few discs for the 45’s so they’d fit on the turntable sort of knob in the middle. I like to play the albums when I read. They crackle a bit, but it is a welcome sound, one straight out of my memory drawers. My oldest LP’s are Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary. I have a Roy Orbison Greatest Hits album I bought in Hyannis. I remember my brother and I had hitched to Hyannis, did a bit of shopping then met up with my father at his office. He was surprised to see us but not pleased we had hitched, but back then we felt safe hitching.

In Ghana I had my cassette recorder and some cassettes of my favorite singers and groups. I played the recorder just about every night. The music was comforting, familiar. I, of course, brought Peter, Paul and Mary along, Album 1700, Joni Mitchell’s Clouds, Simon and Garfunkel’s Bookends and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s Deja Vu. Later, my sister sent me a cassette of songs she had recorded from the radio. None were familiar but became familiar over time.

Nala is a cheeky beast. I was in the bathroom, and she stopped at the bathroom door and looked at me defiantly. She had a napkin in her mouth stolen off the den table. She took it outside and shredded it.

Yesterday I crossed the dump off my to-do list, but I added washing the kitchen floor and polishing the furniture. The list is never ending. I think I’ll start writing it in calligraphy, more of a work of art than a chore list.

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.