The morning is a delight. It is 54°. The air is still. The sun is bright and warm. I don’t see a single cloud. I’ve decided I’m going to take a ride. Today is not a day to waste sitting inside. The only chores on my list are easy: do a small wash and clear the trash from the yard.

When I was a kid, today would have been a perfect bike day. In the morning, just after breakfast, I’d have to haul my bike from its winter quarters, the cellar, so I could ride to school. In the parking lot, behind both schools, the old and the new, there was a bike rack under the trees along one side of the fence. It was wooden and painted green, green being one of the school colors. I never had a lock for my bike, but I did have a license plate. The police gave them out if you registered your bike. The license was green and had Stoneham and a plate number on it. My dad attached it to the back of my bike.

Riding my bike to school meant I got home quicker than usual. I’d walk the last part of the hill, drop my bike on the lawn, run inside, change into play clothes and go back outside to ride. I was so fleet-footed I sometimes set a new world’s record for the quickest change.

A day like today has me hungering for spring. The daffodil shoots in the front garden are getting higher. I check their progress every day. I know it is only February, but a warm day can be beguiling, and I fall for it every time.

On warmer days, the dogs go out for a long time. I get nervous and check, a left over worry from Miss Gracie. She was my fence leaper. Henry dances and jumps on his hind legs when he knows dinner is coming. That is as high as he gets. When Nala zooms the yard, she follows the fence line. She doesn’t seem interested in escaping. She sees the yard as her pawn shop, a place to leave her stolen goods.

I am a deep sleeper. Before I fall asleep, the dogs get comfy. Nala starts under my spread leaning against me, but at some point she moves without the spread. I never wake up when she does. Henry has taken possession of the bottom of the bed. He and I form perpendicular lines. Henry is also my guard. If he hears a noise, he leaps off the bed, stands at the top of the stairs and barks a few times then stops to evaluate the situation. Usually he comes back to bed. I’m hoping it’s always that way, but should it not be, Henry makes me feel safe. Woe to anyone who runs a foul of Henry. I know from experience.