At 74° the morning was a bit cooler than lately. The sun comes and goes. The day is still, quiet. Nala is out. Henry is sleeping upstairs on my bed, his favorite napping spot. It is a lazy day all around.

My muse is on vacation. I have started and erased several different openings. None have caught fire. I stalled each time. Ghana is my back-up.

My house, one side of a duplex, was on school grounds, Women’s Training College, in Bolgatanga. It was brand new. It had four inside rooms: the living room, my bedroom, a spare room with my desk and an eating area with a table and a couple of chairs and the fridge. In the courtyard outside was the faucet, a shower, cold water only, a toilet room, the actual kitchen with a stove I never used, and a room for Thomas, who worked for me. I always felt lucky, maybe a little guilty. I had water and electricity.

I had no TV and no radio. I had a cassette player and a few cassettes: Peter, Paul and Mary, Joni Mitchell, CSN&Y and Simon and Garfunkel. I also had a mixed tape my sister made for me.

All my classes were in the morning. I taught the second years. In between classes I’d go home and sit outside and drink a cup of coffee. During my off time I’d sometimes go shopping in town, but mostly I read book after book.

Every night, the watchman made his rounds before he’d fall asleep by the fire. He’d stop at my house for ice water. He didn’t speak any English.

The nights were quiet and dark. I always slept soundly. I was up early as I usually went to bed early.

After I bought my moto, I traveled on the backroads with a can of gas bungeed on the back, just in case. The road weren’t paved. They were dusty in the dry season and tamped down in the rainy season. I loved exploring far afield, and I suspect the sight of a white lady on a motorcycle on a way back road stopped people in their tracks. The ones I saw walking on the road always waved.

I was never bored. Every day was exciting. Every day I woke up in Africa. Every day I was amazed.

Right now it is 78° and cloudy. Tonight the low could get down to 68°. I look forward to feeling cool though I wonder if it is a prescience of fall or Mother Nature pranking us. Possible showers are also part of the weather report, but I don’t care one way or the other. Rain never stops me.

When I was a kid, only the movie theater had air conditioning. In our house, we didn’t even have a fan. Both inside doors were open to the screens as were the windows. The dark living room, shades down, was the coolest room in the house. Our screen doors were wooden. I can still remember my mother yelling, “Don’t slam the door,” but if you ran out the door, it just slammed itself. She wanted and maybe even expected my younger sisters would gently close the door. The poor woman had no idea. What kid stops to close the door?

Popsicles were my favorite treat to beat the heat. When Johnny, the ice cream man, came, everyone ran home to get money. Popsicles were only a nickel. All the other treats were a dime. I loved the root beer and cherry popsicles. If I had a dime, I’d buy a Drumstick. I still buy Drumsticks. If Johnny had no drumsticks, I’d buy a Push-Up. That was sherbet in a cardboard tube about the size of a toilet paper tube. It had a wooden push up stick on the bottom; hence, its name. My favorite was orange.

When we visited my grandparents in East Boston, we’d sometimes buy Italian ice, similar to a snow cone but tastier. It came in either a cardboard cup or a cardboard cone. Lemon was my favorite. I remember at the bottom of the cone was liquid, cold, tart lemon.

As for ice cream, I went on a mint chocolate chip frenzy a while back. I did the same with coffee chip. Now it is coconut to which I sometimes add a bit of hot fudge. It is ice cream Nirvana.