The day seems a bit nicer than it has been. We have sun and a mostly blue sky, but it is still cold at 31°. The dogs are my barometers. They are out and back inside quickly on the coldest days. They are dogs who prefer comfy and cozy. They tend to nap upstairs on my bed. They are most assuredly my dogs.

I never make New Year resolutions. They go hand in hand with giving something up for Lent. I am never successful at either so I ignore them both.

The only thing on my dance card is a concert tonight, two one hour concerts at First Night in Chatham. We are singing the dance book and a bit of Jimmy Buffett. I’ll wear glitter.

When I was a kid, the only thing I noticed about the new year was the need to change the date on my school papers. It took a couple of days.

Some of the extraordinary things I have seen are simple things that I never imagined seeing. I remember my first palm tree. I’m from New England. We don’t do tropical. That palm tree was in Winneba on the coast. I saw it just after I woke up on my first morning in Ghana. I just stood there. The palm trees were beside family compounds. I was in awe. I was in Africa. It was the same about pineapples and bananas. I had only seen them on grocery shelves, never on trees. Those fruits started my adventure into a place so wonderful that even just fruits become the stuff of legends.

I think my favorite ride of all was in the hot air balloon. We moved with the wind. We cast shadows on the lawns and streets. We scared the pigs on the pig farm. They ran in one large group in a wave away from the balloon. People in pajamas and robes ran outside to see us, to see all 5 of the balloons drifting above them. It was a glorious sight from my balloon.

I love trains. My favorite train ride was on the autobus from Quito to Guayaquil. It was a train car converted to a bus but still riding on a rail. The scenery was spectacular. I saw the snow-capped Andes, bananas growing, herds of llamas and even a switchback. The bus was filled with people. Those standing in the aisle sat and hid on the floor if we went through a town. The driver would blow his horn to warn people walking on the tracks to get off. People did. Many animals didn’t. I stopped looking out the window.

I have come to recognize that life is a series of adventures. You just have to notice. Stop and smell the pineapples.

Today is another cold, partly cloudy day. It matches my mood. I need more sun and maybe a bit of warmth. I’m tired of living in my sweatshirts and flannel pants. I did go out yesterday, but it doesn’t count. I went to get bread, dog food and cat treats. I was in and out quickly. Did I mention the cupcake and the Snickers?

When I was a kid, the week between Christmas and New Year was usually quiet. We played with our new toys and games still lit by the light of the tree. The year of my bike we had no snow so I could ride. It was chilly down hills, and my jacket puffed in the wind. Mittens don’t have the best grip for handle bars, but they kept my fingers warm. That bike was my greatest Christmas present. I became an intrepid explorer. I was an adventurer. I learned to ride without using the handle bars. I learned to turn corners with my legs, not my hands. I ventured into nearby towns, even as far as East Boston to the horror of my mother and the surprise of my grandfather. It was when I was in high school that my bike stayed more in the cellar than not. My friends got cars and we rode. Only once in a while did we all do a bike trip, a planned trip sometimes with a picnic. My bike got left behind.

One of the best things I did in Ghana was during my second year when we were allowed to buy motos, motorcycles. I bought one in Tamale ( tarm a lay), 100 miles and at least 2 1/2 hours away. I had to learn to ride the moto before I bought it. The dealer gave me a start, brake, shift and stop lesson. I took off, drove on the left and rode the 100 miles with one stop to rest and a few stops to gape. I would get a helmet from Peace Corps but on that first ride, no helmet. I will never forget the exhilaration of that trip. I rode through towns and villages. I dodged goats and sheep. I stopped just to look, just to admire what going slower and more deliberately gave me. It was the best trip ever until the next best trip ever. I could ride far on back roads, laterite roads. I went places I didn’t know were there before. I shopped in a small market just to shop. I drank newly brewed pito while sitting on the bench in the pito house. I took my time. That was how remarkable having a moto was.

Now, I still like rides once I get up and about. The Christmas lights are brighter this year and more houses are lit, more colors and bright bulbs are keeping the darkness at bay. The cape has very few streetlights. Within a short time outside will be dark again, but here inside, I have white lights on the fireplace screen. In a basket I have lit gourds, a couple from Ghana. The dining room table has a set of lights in the big dough bowl. The lights are set among pine cones, strawberries, a piece of driftwood, a cloth star and a collared, tagged Steiff boxer, a weird addition I know but he does seem to fit.

The lights are soft, warm. I love the way the lights feel. My house is winter lit.