Today will be hot, 76° being the expected high. The air is thick, but there is a wind strong enough to toss the tall branches of the oak trees and to cool the house. Rain is likely tonight.

Yesterday the traffic was heavy and lined up at the lights. Even the hardware store had no parking spaces. I got what I needed there and then moved on to groceries. I skipped flowers and went home.

Last night I saw my first fireflies. I was delighted. I saw one in the front yard and three or four in the back. I picked one and followed its light as it flitted around the yard. They are my favorite summer visitors.

I could be busy today but I am choosing to be a sloth. The dust balls can get bigger and fly into the air. The winter clothes will stay in the closet one more day, and the paw prints on the kitchen floor will still mark the way. As Scarlett said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

I used to be strong, but I also used to be young. I remember hauling 50 pounds of cat litter upstairs. Now I drag dog food bags into the house from the car and move heavy cartons end over end to get them inside. Jars take forever to open, a couple sit unopened in the cabinet. I hate pulling those tabs off of milk and cream. The squeeze and twist off caps of aspirin bottles were made for younger fingers. I’ve used church keys and old bottle openers to hack at bottles and cans. They have become important tools in my arsenal.

I have questions. Who decided bread should be toasted in the morning? Why does Tarzan not have a beard? He didn’t ever shave. Why are the green oranges in Ghana still called oranges? Greenies? Why are some days partly sunny and other days partly cloudy? Cinderella’s shoe fell off. Was it a bad fit or a plan? When I was a kid, I used to wonder if God could make something so heavy even he could not pick it up.

The world is full of conundrums.

The rain started a bit earlier then stopped but has since started again. That will be the weather pattern for today, on and off rain. The humidity is so thick you can cut with a knife. My father used to say that. There is a breeze but it doesn’t help much. I can hear the birds. I can hear the tapping of the drops as they hit the metal barrel on my deck. The sound brings me back to Ghana and the rain on my metal roof. Those drops are the best things about the morning.

I have lists: errands, house chores and deck planting. Henry should be bald for all the hair he leaves everywhere. I need to vacuum. I need to switch my clothes to summer. The plants are gasping for water. I need bread. I need more plants. I need outside screws and c clamps for a deck project. Before I sound handy, it was my friend Bill who told me what I needed. I had never heard of c clamps.

When I was a kid, the kitchen junk drawer was a magic drawer, always overflowing, sometimes even difficult to open, but almost anything we needed was stuffed inside. A hammer? A screwdriver? Nails? Screws? Pens? Elastics? The list goes on. Some of the stuff couldn’t be identified, but it couldn’t be thrown away. We might need it, whatever it is, later. I have a junk drawer in an old table, an old wooden kitchen table in the living room, one with two drawers. It too is magical. When I bought that kitchen table at an auction, its destiny was foretold. Tools I use often are there, a couple of old frames, Christmas ornament hooks, a book about birds, nails and screws and a few mystery items I’ll never throw away.