This morning is following the same weather pattern as the last few days. It is only in the high 50’s. The sun, pretty but not so warm, is shining high in a sky of deep blue. It will only get to the low 60’s today, but starting tomorrow it will get warmer for the long weekend. The deluge of cars will begin tonight.

When I was a kid, I was thrilled to march in the Memorial Day parade in my town. It was a small time celebration, a parade of boy and girl scouts, brownies, cub scouts, the high school band, little league players and a dramatic finale, fire trucks blowing their alarms. I was a brownie and matched with my troop and several others. I was agog with excitement and pride. My parents were always there, watching from the sidewalk, and I remember waving at them when they yelled my name. We marched through town to one of the cemeteries where there was a service of sorts honoring the military who had given their lives for their country. After the parade, we went home to a barbecue of burgers and hot dogs with a few sides. I think peppers and eggs, my favorite, was one of the sides.

I probably won’t be around and about this weekend. It is time to hibernate, to avoid the traffic of sightseers, beach goers and rubberneckers. I have a few chores I might finish or might not depending on my mood.

I used to like to color. Every Christmas I’d get a new coloring book and crayons. I’d sit at the kitchen table with my crayons strewn in front of me. I never threw crayons away, even stubs. I used to tear off the paper as the crayons got shorter so the nuances of color disappeared. Sunset and vermillion were just red. Cerulean and indigo were just blue. I was fine with that. I started with a small box of crayons, but every Christmas the box got bigger, filled with all sort of colors. One year my box had 64 crayons and a built in sharpener. It was my favorite box. I loved sharpening my crayons when the tips got blunter with use.

This last Christmas my sister gave me a coloring book called My Coloring Book about Ghana. I chuckled as it was described on the back cover as, “For kids under 8 years old.” It was made in Connecticut. She also gave me the box of 64 Crayola crayons, and it still has a built in sharpener. I can hardly wait to use it.

The day is already lovely. The sky is the deepest blue with nary a cloud. The sun is gleaming. The breeze, though, is a bit strong so the morning is a mite chilly, at 53°, but it will warm to the low 60’s. Welcome to a day in June on Cape Cod.

Sometimes I stare at the screen hoping for inspiration for the day’s Coffee. I sort through my memory drawers. I go way back in time and place.

Today will be a mishmash.

I don’t remember when I first spent some time thinking about life in general. That was a skimpy drawer until I was older. Life, when I was a kid, was school, my bike, the library and playing in the woods, the field or the swamp. I had Girl Scout meetings and drill practice, but nothing else was planned. Life just happened.

I am sort of back to that place. I have my uke twice a week, practice and a lesson, and I have concerts. In June there are about twelve of them. The rest of my time is unplanned. Life just happens.

The spring cleaning infection I’ve had is getting more intense, weirder. Yesterday I cleaned the cabinet at the bottom of the hutch. I found a few neat surprises. I also cleaned my silver. I don’t have a whole lot of silver, but I do have what were tarnished serving pieces. They now shine. I can see my face in the tines of the fork. What an accomplishment!

My favorite European country is Portugal. I visited there with my parents. We traveled north into the Douro Valley, to Miranda do Douro. We stayed a night or two in Nazare at a hotel on the water. It was off-season. We ate seafood at a restaurant across from the beach. We could see the ocean crashing against rocks, and we watched the sunset. My other yummed his way through a platter of shellfish. In Lisbon, on our last two nights, we stayed at a hotel, a grand hotel, in the middle of the city. That was our custom, to splurge at least once, during every trip.

When I lived in Ghana, I used to go to Togo, mostly Lomé , the capital, during school vacations. My high school French got a workout there as French is the national language. I stayed at the Peace Corps hostel. Usually I met friends there from Ghana. We roamed the city. I remember eating lobster off the grill on a patio of a huge hotel. I visited bakeries, pâtisseries, every day. I ate crème glacée. I shopped at the Grand Marché, on the third floor, for cloth. One time I rented a mobilette, a moped, well before I bought my own motorcycle. I rode all over the city in heavy traffic. It was frightening and amazing.

Okay, I managed to find something to write about today. Talk to you tomorrow.