After the last couple of days of rain, today is a welcomed change. The sun has decided to reappear and brought with it a blue sky, but it is only 55°. I’m wearing my hoodie.

This is not one of my better days. I feel logy despite my sloth days. I envision another day of reading, doing my puzzle and filling in my crossword book except I really need to water plants and vacuum the hall. This morning I bent over to pick up a dust ball with my coffee cup in hand. When I bent over, I tipped the cup and spilled the little coffee which was left. That is how the morning started.

My dance card is empty except for uke practice and my lesson. We are starting a new book, Across America, for the first two weeks of the month then we move on to John Denver. We are getting ready for our weekly concerts on the green starting the end of the month when we do a new book every week.

There is a picture of me from when I was about three years old. It was taken in my grandparents’ back yard. I am sitting in a fire engine which belonged to my brother. It seems to be still but my hands are on the steering wheel. What I like best about this picture is I am wearing a frilly dress, The frilliest parts are hanging outside the wagon. Those were my girly days.

When I was in college, my friends and I met every morning at the same table in the canteen. We had coffee together. We also did the crossword puzzle in the newspapers we had bought from the kiosk. It was a race. We’d go to classes but return to that table all day. We were merciless to each other in a fun way. If somebody talked on, we’d turn our backs or we’d pretend to fall asleep. We were close. When I was in Ghana, we wrote at first, but the letters got fewer and fewer. They were moving on while I was living a different life. We lost track of each other. I saw them only a couple of times after I got home and not again. It has been over 50 years since those canteen days. I wonder about them now. Where are they? How were their lives? Are they happy? I still drink my coffee and do the crossword puzzle every day. I have found that pieces of my life through time stay with me. They are a part of who I have become.

Mother Nature has done a 180° from the weather which had started Friday night and lasted all day yesterday. The rain is gone. The clouds have disappeared. The sun is bright, but it is still a bit chilly at 61°. According to the weather report, light rain is predicted for later with a low of 49° tonight.

I was going to the dump today, but I decided I don’t want to haul trash bags from the deck to the car. I did enough hauling the other day. Today might just be a repeat of yesterday’s sloth day when I read and worked on my puzzle, a fruit platter. I got some of the middle done. Once I start a jigsaw puzzle I get obsessed.

In Bolgatanga, my Ghanaian home, the rainy season has started. The millet is already planted. Maize, groundnuts and yams are probably already planted as well. During the dry season, the fields are empty, and it seems as if you can see for miles. During the rainy season everything is hidden behind the tall millet. Only the dirt road between the fields is visible ahead and behind. It rains pretty much every day once the season is in full swing, usually by July. I learned to appreciate rain.

Peace Corps gave us a monthly living allowance to cover all our needs. We got American dollars for traveling. When I went to Accra, the capital, I stayed at the Peace Corps hostel for 50 pesewas a night, about 50 cents, including breakfast. I usually saw a movie or two. I ate cheaply at mostly Lebanese restaurants, but on every trip, I ate at the only Chinese restaurant in the city. It was a treat. We always ate outside.

I had one experience still bright in my memory drawers. I have mentioned this before, but today it is close again. In my Ghanaian days, old hotels still existed, the sort of places where rich expats stayed. A few friends and I decided to say goodbye to a friend leaving early. We went to one of those hotels, to the bar. I remember the room where we sat and drank, real drinks, not hot Coke. Fans turned overhead. The room was filled with tall windows. The chairs and couch cushions were soft and covered with cloth of bright flowered patterns. Palm plants were strewn about the room, mostly in corners. I had the oddest sense as if I had gone back in time to the 50’s or even the 40’s. I could see white couples sitting and drinking, the women wearing light, short sleeve dresses and wide brim hats, the men in white suits. It was easy to imagine.