Mother Nature can’t seem to make a decision regarding the weather. It is 50° but the wind is strong and cold. We do have some sun and a bit of blue but there are clouds, no rain, just clouds. I did a few errands. When I got home, my landscapers were clearing the limbs, raking the gardens, blowing the drive-way clean and cleaning off the deck. My yard looks great. Now I am in the hunt to find someone for a dump run.

The dafs have buds. The tops of the grape hyacinths have broken through in the front yard. I saw purple croci, the first flowers of spring. Color is coming back. Winter grey is disappearing. I feel like singing a happy tune while skipping down the sidewalk.

I loved it when the buds appeared, tiny specks on the branches and the bushes. I could put away my winter coat. I still dressed in layers but light layers compared to winter. The sweet aroma of spring arrived with the flowers. The mornings were still chilly, but the afternoons got warmer. We could play outside in the afternoons. The sun hung around longer every day.

I didn’t learn to do house things when I was a kid. My mother cooked all the meals, baked the cookies and brownies, cleaned the house, made my bed and did the wash. When I was in college, I’d bring my laundry home. Once I tried to wash the laundry myself. A buzzer went off and the washing machine stopped. It kept buzzing. I had no idea what that meant. When I opened the machine, the clothes were still soaked. I wrung them as well as I could then put the clothes in the dryer. I was not a fan of washing clothes or cleaning.

During training in Ghana, the hunt went for someone to wash our clothes. We found some women in each village where we stayed. It only took a day for them to wash and iron clothes. The cost was small. I never did my own laundry, not once in over two years. I did bake, made cookies for the first time ever. My mother had sent me Christmas cookie cutters so. I gave sugar cookies a try. I even made frosting. Those were darn good cookies.

Now, I love to cook, to bake. I am unafraid of trying new dishes even with company. I haphazardly clean. I still don’t do laundry.

When I look out the window, I see sun and a vibrant, take your breath away blue sky. I see nothing moving, not even the smallest branches. It all looks perfect as long as I stay inside. It is cold again, 38°. It will get warmer, possibly up to 41°, but tonight will be in the 20’s. Every day has this same pattern. Old Man Winter just won’t let go.

My days this time of year are mostly routine. Winter does that. When it is cold, I prefer to stay home. I have plenty of books. I have movies to watch and popcorn to eat. I stay in my cozies all day. Sometimes I take a nap. Only my ukulele lesson and practice get me out of the house. They are givens. Now and then I also have an errand or two. These quiet days my version of hibernation.

We never counted the days until Easter. We didn’t light any candles like we did for Advent. My mother took us Easter clothes shopping. We also got new shoes. My sisters liked shiny patent leather. They liked frilly dresses and hats. I was never one for fancy. I remember one Easter when I chose a skirt, a blouse and a jacket. We went to my grandparents’ house after Easter dinner as did aunts and uncles and cousins. My mother, grandmother and the aunts were always in the kitchen sitting around the table. I was heading into kitchen when I heard my name mentioned. I stopped to listen. One of my aunts wanted to know why I was so plainly dressed for Easter. My mother told her it was my choice. That ended the conversation.

When I was a kid, every Easter was warm. That’s what I remember. The trees had buds and some early curled light green leaves. The winter brown grass was giving way to green grass. We stood on the steps for pictures to show off our new outfits. The steps were in the sun giving an allusion of warmth, of spring. It didn’t matter how cold it was. We always smiled.

I still have a concert tomorrow, the sixth one this week, so I decided to post tonight. The week has been hectic. It started with my toothache last weekend. Today my shower rod fell and hit me in the head. I couldn’t get it hung back up so it is on the side of the tub. I need a new shower curtain rod or I have to start taking baths.

When I was a kid, I went to a dentist who used gas. I loved it. I’d drift off then when I woke up, everything was done. My father was horrified at the cost so he decided to take me to his childhood dentist whose office was in East Boston. First of all, the guy was ancient. I think he shuffled when he walked. He used no Novocain, no gas, nothing numbing. I think he was smiling as his hand moved the drill to my mouth. The pain was horrific. My fingers dug into the chair arms and left permanent impressions of my fingerprints. I cried silently. Tears fell down my cheeks. I jumped out of the chair when he was finished. I barely survived. I developed a healthy hatred of dentists. When I saw Little Shop of Horrors, I swear the dentist, Orin Scrivello, was based on that dentist in East Boston. Next came Marathon Man. Even now I get the chills thinking about the dentist who wanted information from Dustin Hoffman and kept drilling his teeth hoping to extract the information by inflicting pain.

Before I left for Ghana, I had to have a physical and a dental check. I found a dentist near my college and explained what I needed. He was fine with everything. I told him I was not a fan of dentists and why. He told me not to worry. He was excellent. He filled even a hint of a cavity. The only thing he didn’t have time to do was clean my teeth. During staging, before we left for Ghana, we each had to have a dentist check our teeth. Mine told me I needed a cleaning which he did. I didn’t even mind.

Now, I no longer leave finger imprints on the dentist’s chair. I visit my dentist religiously. I even like him, but I won’t ever watch Marathon Man again.