The day is perfect. The sun is brilliant. The air is dry. It is 69° and won’t get much hotter. An intermittent breeze sways the small branches and flutters the oak leaves. I should stand on the porch and sing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” as I dance about like a character in a musical.

I have a concert today on the village green in Hyannis. I think a village green harkens back to earlier days. The women in the audience should be wearing long dresses and carrying parasols while the men should wear suits and bow ties and straw boaters on their heads. We’re singing songs about America.

Last night we had a tremendous rain storm with thunder and lightening. For the first time, Henry got scared, leaned on me and shook a bit. I hugged him and spoke softly hoping to reassure him. Nala didn’t seem afraid, alert maybe but not afraid. After the thunder died away, Henry settled down and fell back asleep.

When I was a kid, summer life was easy. My sole responsibility was to have fun. During the day, I seldom stayed home. Even in the rain I was out and about. I used to explore. In my mind’s eye, I can still see that field below my house. It had a path where the tall grass had been beaten down by footsteps. On both sides of the field were trees. One side had thick trees while the other side had fewer trees and led to a street. It was on that side where we buried our turtle. He was in a cigar box, and we buried him deep. Later they would build elderly apartments there, and I always wondered if they found the box. On the other side was another path which led to the water tower. Blueberry bushes were on one side of the path. We ate them and cleared the bushes. The middle path had the thick rotted trunk of a tree with a split off branch on its side. We climbed over the branch though we could have walked around it. It was a sort of ritual. That path led to the swamp and ended at a street. I always used it as a short cut. I remember when they plowed the field under and cut down the trees to build more elderly apartments. They destroyed a piece of my childhood, but I had a memory drawer filled to the brim. I get to visit that field still.