Saturday is a fine day, my favorite day since I was a little kid. Back then I was usually out and about every Saturday, sometimes with a destination in mind while other times I just meandered. All through time, Saturday has stayed much the same for me. I still think of it as a day to enjoy, to have no chores or errands. Today I have a concert. I get to play my uke.

The weather this morning is a mix of sun and clouds. The sun, in its turn, is bright, squint your eyes bright. Everything seems to shine, almost glitter, in the light. When the clouds take their turn, the day is a bit darker. It is in the low 40’s right now. Light rain is predicted.

When I was little, my mother used to read to me, usually a Golden book. My favorite was Chicken Little aka Henny Penny. Many years later my mother gave me a Chicken Little book in my stocking. After I read it, I was horrified. Everyone pretty much gets eaten. Somehow I’d forgotten that part.

Today my muse has gone hither and yon. When that happens, I rely on stories of my travels. Most of our family vacations were either the stay at home sort or a visit to Maine where my father’s friend had a tiny cottage. In Maine, the water was too cold for swimming, and there was nothing much to do all day. The home vacations were my favorites. We often went to museums or to the beach for the day. We went to the drive-in. The town had a pool and a couple of times my father took us night swimming there. You had to have an adult with you at night so the pool was never crowded. One time we went to New Hampshire. My father drove up Mount Washington. It was a spectacular ride. I could see right over the edge, and it was a bit scary. At the mountain top it was cold. We also saw the Flume, the the most amazing gorge and waterfall that was so loud you couldn’t be heard. We saw the Old Man of the Mountain. He’s gone now. He collapsed. The only place you can see him is on New Hampshire license plates. We did all that in one day. My father was never one to waste time, even on a vacation day.

The day is pretty. The sun has poked through the earlier morning clouds. The sky is blue and the sky is cloudy. The wind is now and then. It is in the 40’s. My front lawn, deck and driveway are hidden by the fallen leaves. More browned leaves still hang from oak tree branches waiting for the wind. The days darken early. The nights are cold. Fall is moving on.

When I was a kid during this time of year, I hated that the afternoons were getting shorter and colder. Darkness came early and triggered the streetlights. My mother didn’t care about the time, only the streetlights. We were well trained so right away we’d go inside. We’d watch TV while my mother made supper. We always ate at the kitchen table. My mother filled our plates and handed them to us. She also cut the meat. We were young.

My mother bought Welch’s grape jelly. It came in a glass with cartoon characters on it. I sometimes put it on crackers but mostly used it for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I remember the bread in the middle of the sandwiches sometimes sank in and turned blue from the jelly. The counter got sticky if any jelly fell off the knife. If I didn’t clean it, I’d hear it from my mother. My father always loved strawberry jam so my mother bought it for him. He loved his snacks, butter or jam on crackers. Royal Lunch Milk Crackers were his favorites, and he was devastated when they were no longer made. He then switched to Saltines.

I don’t remember when I stopped eating grape jelly and switched to jam. I think of it as the first step into adulthood, the laying aside of childish things. It was a tiny step albeit but a step nonetheless. Right now my favorite is Mission Fig Jam. I just finished my last jar yesterday. Life can be cruel.