My membership in the society of sloths is under review. Yesterday I swept, washed and waxed the kitchen floor. I cleaned everything on the counter. I washed and waxed the hall floor. I grocery shopped. I cooked an actual dinner. It was an exhausting day.

The morning is still nighttime chilly. The day will be a bit cooler than it has been. We’ll stay in the 60’s. The sun will hang round all day. My backyard is lovely. The light shines through the leaves of the oak trees, and the leaves on the small branches flutter in the breeze. It is my perfect sort of day.

When I was a kid, I always felt safe. I wandered my town without fear. My mother had given me the speech about strangers and not taking candy. I didn’t understand the need for it until that time in the subway. I know I’ve written about this before, but it is still such a vivid memory that every now and then it comes to light. I was with my brother and my uncle, who was a couple of years older than I. We were going to the pool near the Museum of Science. We took the subway. In the station I waited for the train sort off to the side by myself. They waited for the train a bit away. A man approached me. I remember he wore a hat, a sort of boater. He had rotten teeth. He spoke sweetly and offered me candy. It took only a split second for my mother’s warning to pop into my head then I ran to my brother and uncle. I told them about the man. They didn’t believe me. I never told anyone else.

My high school graduation was outside in front of the school. We were the first to go outside. The boys wore green gowns while the girls wore white. We sat in front, and the boys were in the back. The speaker was a bit boring. He was from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute. The sign with Class of 1965 fell from where it was hanging on the front of the school and hit a classmate and knocked him off the bleacher in the back. We all knew as the word was spread. He was fine and got up on his seat again. It was the only excitement. We got our diplomas and marched out. Each girl was given a red rose. The last thing was turning in our robes as they had been rented. Next year will be the 60th anniversary of my high school graduation.

Today is a little bit cloudy, but the sun is hanging around waiting its turn. It’s warm again, in the low 70’s. The dogs were out for a while, but it now time for their morning naps. We are all comfy on the couch.

I have favorite sounds. When I lived in Ghana and first heard the rooster crowing, I thought it a wonderful way to greet the morning. It was loud, but I learned to listen, sort of smile and then go back to sleep. When I went back, a rooster greeted the day right outside my hotel window every morning. I was glad. The chimes in my backyard are sweet sounding. The morning birds sing at first light. The nights are filled with the sounds of katydids and crickets. The frogs from the small pond at the end of the street join the chorus. Sometimes I am lucky enough to hear an owl. I love the sound of the oak leaves blowing in the wind. I like thunder. The bell from my coffee maker has me hurrying to the kitchen for my first cup. Jack, my cat, has the loudest purr.

I know smells connect to memories. Cookies baking in the oven always remind me of my mother and her sugar cookies. They were Christmas. Wood burning brings me back to Ghana. The mornings in Ghana were filled with the aroma of wood burning from the compounds around my house. Breakfast was being cooked. Mine too was cooked using wood charcoal. When I went to Plimouth Plantation for the first time, the air was filled with the aroma of wood burning. It took me right back to Ghana. The pine scent of my Christmas tree is one of my favorite smells. This time of year the air is sweet with the fragrance of my lilac bushes and the flowers in the front garden.

Colors fill my world. In spring are the bright yellow dafs and the deep purples of the hyacinths. All summer my front garden blooms in riots of color. My deck pot flowers are red and pink and yellow. I never realized how colorful fall is here on the cape until I got back from Africa and saw my first fall. The bogs are red, ripe with cranberries. Oak trees leaves turn a sort of russet red, a muted color. Yellow and bright reds are less common so more striking when I see them.

To describe my favorite tastes would take pages and pages. I’ll just say that I never turn down chocolate. Every day has to start with coffee. My mother made the best tapioca pudding.