We have clouds, and we have sun. It will be in the low 40’s. Rain is predicted for tomorrow. Surprise! Surprise! This is the spring of rain.

Today is another day for a bit of cleaning. A little cleaning is about as much as I can stand. I’m going to tackle table tops, the dusty tabletops. White hair is everywhere. I’m surprised Henry isn’t bald in spots.

Last night Nala gave me a fright. I was calling for her out the back door at bedtime, no Nala. Henry stood with me looking out the door, no Nala. I then tried the magic words, “Treat time!” She came running down the stairs. Nala had been sleeping on my bed and chose to ignore me.

Our dog, Duke, the boxer of my youth, was stubborn. That used to drive my father crazy. Duke would start to follow the kids to school, to the East School. My father would call him. Duke would turn around and look at my father then turn around and keep going. My father would be infuriated. He’d get into his car and chase Duke. Poor Duke always got caught. My mother tried the treat route to get him into the house. She’d hold out a piece of bologna and call him. Duke would go up to her, snatch the bologna and run. My mother would be left with only a corner of the bologna slice. He wasn’t allowed on the couch, but he always slept on the couch. We could hear him getting off the couch in the morning.

My favorite Duke story I’ve told before, but it is worth retelling. Duke was a wanderer. He lived in the days before leash laws. He’d follow his people. One day he happened to find my grandmother. He had stayed at my grandparents’ house while we were on vacation one year. They were not pet people. Duke used to take off and go home to an empty house. My grandfather would have to retrieve him. One day Duke ran into my grandmother uptown in the square. She went into Woolworth’s. He followed. He stayed with her while she browsed the aisles. As she was checking out, Duke lifted his leg on the comic book revolving stand. The manager yelled. he wanted to know if Duke was my grandmother’s dog. She said no which was the truth. He told her he saw the dog following her. My grandmother claimed innocence, shrugged a bit, paid for her goods, took her bag and left. Duke followed her out the door.

When I first woke up, I could hear the rain. I went back to bed and back to sleep. When next I woke, the rain had stopped and been replaced by muted light from the sun, but the sky is cloudy again. It will stay that way all day with the sun and clouds playing flip flop. It is warm, already in the 50’s.

I have an empty dance card for the next few days. I have nowhere I need to be until Monday. Next week is a busy uke week. Besides practice and my lesson, there are 3 concerts. I will definitely attend two of them.

When I was a kid, March was a boring month. It was the month between February vacation and April’s spring vacation so, despite having St. Patrick’s Day off, it felt like the longest month of endless days of school. The weather in March was always unpredictable as if the weather god, the storm god, couldn’t make up his mind. Some days were spring warm while other days were more like winter with chilly winds. I usually chose spring and wore a sweater under a spring jacket for my walk to school. That satisfied my mother.

My mother was less vigilant on Saturdays. I could get away with wearing just a sweater or just a jacket. Mostly on March Saturdays I’d ride my bike. When I was speeding down the hills, the wind would sometimes blow up the sleeves of my jacket, and I’d feel cold. I never admitted that to my mother. She would have demanded layers.

I loved my mother’s brownies. She always chocolate frosted them and then sprinkled jimmies on the top. The crunchy brownies on the corners were my favorites. I don’t remember my mother making a white cake. I just remember chocolate cakes with chocolate frosting. When I make a cake, it is always chocolate with chocolate frosting. That is heredity.