Keep the Coffee Comimg

The morning is absolutely beautiful. If I looked in the dictionary for the definition of spring, it would describe today. The so very bright sun sits in a deep blue sky. It will get to 65°. The dogs stay out longer. Nala lies on the only patch of grass in the backyard and sunbathes. Henry sniffs the ground and wanders.

When I was a kid, I used to check the moon to see if the man in the moon was smiling. He usually was. I wished on the first star, “I wish I may. I wish I might.” I loved to watch fireflies flit around the field. When I was really little, I figured they were Tinker Bell’s friends and relatives. Magic was all around. You just had to look. You just had to believe.

I always love the first fireflies I see in my backyard. On warm nights I sit outside on the deck to watch the fireflies and listen to the night birds and crickets and cicadas. Each has its own song. I sometimes light my chiminea. I have piñon wood. Its aroma sweetens the air. The night still has a bit of magic about it.

My language instructor Lawal used to tell us Ghanaian folk tales and stories. He told us why mosquitos buzz ears. It seems mosquitos were enamored with ear, but ear did not return the affection and refused mosquito. Since that time, mosquitos buzz ears to let them know he is still around, and his feelings haven’t changed. The moon chases the sun in the hope that sun will return moon’s ardor. An eclipse is as close as he gets.

I have entered into a sort of madness. Yesterday I deep cleaned the living room. It took nearly two hours. Today I tackle the dining room. I need to be saved.

My dance card is ukulele heavy. I have my usual practice and lesson as well as two concerts. We’re practicing The Beach Boys and playing the second 70’s book at the concerts. It’s a busy week.

Today is a bit bleak. The sky is grey. Everything is wet from last night’s rain. The only saving grace is it will be warm, in the low 60’s. I have no place I need to go today. The animals have food. I have food. All is well.

When I was a kid, we took a trip to New Hampshire to the Hood Dairy Farm. I remember they played music for the cows. The guide said the cows had ears for music and gave more milk when it was played. My father worked for Hood but Hood ice cream, not Hood milk. My grandfather worked for Hood milk in Charlestown. I remember the building had a huge brick chimney with Hood Milk painted down from the top. My Girl Scout troop once toured that building. I remember watching bottles being filled with milk. I learned Hood was the first company to use glass bottles. One of my favorite childhood memories is the sound of those bottles clinking against each other in the metal carrier when the milkman delivered milk to the back stairs box outside the kitchen door. I still have a wooden box with metal inside which insulated the milk as it sat on the back stairs.

When I lived in Ghana, the only milk I used was evaporated milk in the can. It came from the Netherlands. I used it mostly in my coffee. I lived in the only part of the country which bred cows, but there was never milk. Ghanaians didn’t drink milk. I used to buy my milk from little kiosks lining the main road. At first the coffee tasted terrible, but I drank it anyway. I needed my morning coffee. In a while, I got used to the taste. When I went back 40 years later, I still drank evaporated milk in my coffee.

Last night Nala brought in a few sticks. She likes to lie on the mat and chew them into small pieces. I am not a fan as she leaves tiny bits of branch all over the floor. When I call her on it, she grabs the branch and runs out the back door. Last night it happened a couple of times, and I threw the pieces out into the yard. Later she was again chewing. I didn’t look until I heard a different sound. I wondered what she had. When I checked, I found my credit card chewed a bit with teeth marks on the corners. It must have fallen out of my wallet. I called to get a new one.