The sun is out and the sky is a pretty blue, but it is chilly, only in the 50’s. My house too is cold so I put on the heat for a while anyway. When I went to get the paper, I noticed my mum plant by the front steps. It had just started blooming beautiful deep purple flowers. All of the flowers are gone, cut from the plant. I could see the clean cuts. To add to this, whoever it was also stole my newspaper. Maybe I should leave a cup of coffee and some toast for the thief to enjoy while he is reading my purloined paper. I’m thinking I might get another mum. I wonder what color the thief might want.

My concert for today was cancelled so I figure it is the day to bid summer goodbye and welcome winter. Adieu summer clothes. Hello flannels and corduroy.

The other day on my way home from Hyannis, the big city, I was stopped by the blinking red train lights. I was the closest to the track. I heard the train whistle, one of my favorite sounds, warn us the train was coming. I watched the train whizzed by the crossroad. It had only the engine and one empty car, but that didn’t matter. It was a train.

When I was a kid, the trains still ran in my town. They didn’t carry passengers. They carried supplies and took away finished goods from the few factories still left. I remember seeing a train on the track beside the chemical plant. My grandparents were down the street from some of the track. From their house, I’d hear the bells warning of the train, and I’d watch it rumble across the road.

When I travel, I try to take trains. I have ridden trains in Europe, South America and Africa, in Ghana mostly. When I was young and traveling, I’d take night trains so I wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel or a hostel. I remember looking out the windows and seeing the houses all lit. I used to imagine the families living in those houses. Sometimes I’d see people at a table eating dinner. For a short minute I was a part of their lives. I so love trains.

Today is a fall day, partly cloudy and in the mid 50’s, sweater weather for sure. The once bright red leaves on the branch outside my window have started to turn brown, and their edges are folded inward. Some have already fallen. I can see the coming winter as I watch the changes in the leaves.

When I was a kid, I layered for walks to school on chilly mornings like today’s. Winter coats were too heavy and just a jacket wasn’t enough. I’d wear my thickest sweater with my jacket. At school, I’d take the sweater off and leave it in the cloak room. It was too hot for inside.

In school, our day was regimented by bells, hand held bells. Someone would stand by the railing on the highest floor and ring the bell into the air over the railing so all the floors could hear. Each classroom had clocks, the usual sort of school clocks, but the bells ruled the day. The only time I clock watched was to keep an eye on how close we were getting to the end of the school day.

We had recess after lunch unless it rained. During recess, the boys stayed on one side of the school yard, the girls on the other. When we were younger, the boys ran around chasing each other and screaming. The girls jump roped or played hopscotch. When we were older, the boys played basketball, and the girls stood in groups talking, a lot of times about the boys.

When I was growing up, most of the vegetables came from cans. Summer corn and home grown tomatoes were the few exceptions. We didn’t eat anything exotic. We had potatoes just about every night. We had peas, green and yellow wax beans and French green beans, the only beans I’d eat, kernel and cream corn and hidden carrots mashed with the potatoes. I never minded eating veggies except for baked beans. I always thought they were gross looking, mushy and brown.

We had apples, oranges, bananas, tangerines at Thanksgiving and strawberry shortcake in the summer. We also liked pears, but my mother didn’t buy them often. We did eat some off the tree behind a neighbor’s fence. They were always hard.

It wasn’t until Ghana that I tried strange fruits and vegetables. I recognized tomatoes and onions but that was about all. I ate okra, plantain, garden eggs, mango, pawpaw, tuber yam, cassava, fresh coconut and fresh pineapple. My taste buds came alive. I became a bit audacious. I tried everything. I liked just about all of it. I didn’t like cassava.