Keep the Coffee Comimg

Around 2:30 this morning the thunder started. It surprised all of us. Nala looked up at the ceiling and Henry just looked around. The rumbles lasted on and off for a while. The dogs lost interest and fell back to sleep. Next, the rain started, heavy drops. It was loud. In a bit, the rain softened but lasted for quite a time. It was still raining when I finally went to bed.

We are back to sweatshirt weather. The house is chilly. Earlier, the air was still, but the wind has since started. It will rain all day, a perfect stay at home day. Yesterday I cleaned. Today my sloth reigns supreme. I have a book and a new jigsaw puzzle.

Each day, the traffic on Coffee is analyzed on the home page by number and location. As you would expect, the highest traffic comes from the United States. What I find unexpected is that the next highest number is from Hong Kong then in order Singapore and Belgium.

When I was a kid, a rainy Saturday meant hanging around the house. I’d sometimes stay in my room, my quiet place, and read. Other times, I’d sit in front of the TV and watch all the Saturday morning programs. I always watched Creature Double Feature in the afternoon. I got to see all the classics, both American and Japanese. That’s where my love for those movies began. Last night I watched Atomic Age Vampire and The Day Mars Invaded Earth. I even ate some popcorn generously buttered.

We had an operator who connected phone calls. The upgrade was a dial phone. Our TV was black and white, but everyones’ were black and white. Most of the movies I watched on Saturdays were made in black and white anyway. The milk man delivered each week. I remember the rattle of the bottles in his wire container as he walked to the back steps. The trash track had men who rode on the back. They jumped off to empty the barrels lined up on the street and the garbage in the below ground container with a pedal on the top to open it. Clothes dried on the backyard lines. My sheets always had the best smell. The ice cream man, Johnny, came most late afternoons. The truck bell announced his arrival. His truck was white with a small door halfway up the back of the truck. The ragman came on his horse and wagon. The knife sharpener man rode his bike with the grinding tool attached.

Life when I was a kid was more colorful, filled with characters. It was simple. It was a great life.

I slept late and had a leisurely morning so I’m behind my time. I even stood on the deck for a bit to watch the dogs and take in the beauty of the day. It is sunny but light rain is predicted for later. It is in the low 60’s but feels warmer.

Pine pollen is covering every bit of my little corner of the world. My blue car is now a yellow green. The deck and even the flowers are covered in pollen. My allergy is making a mess of me. I cough whenever I do anything requiring breathing. My nose needs constant blowing. This is my least favorite time of year.

The town where I grew up had every sort of tree. I remember up the hill from where I lived was a chestnut tree. Sometimes we pelted the chestnuts at each other. They really hurt. An old elm tree with a giant trunk was across the street from my house. It came down in a hurricane, split at the trunk. My father took us outside during the eye of the storm to check out the tree. The rest of the trunk and all the branches were across the road. I climbed through the smaller branches. The other trees I remember were the red maples and the amazing color of their leaves. Those were the leaves we ironed in wax paper to save them at their brightest. We did have a few pine. The white pines were tall and had fluffy needles. I don’t remember their pollen covering surfaces. Maybe, unlike here on the cape, they were few. The oak trees were many, maybe the most of all. The lilac is a bush but grows so tall and full it might just qualify as a baby tree. The houses around my street had tall lilac bushes. The purple flowers smiled divine. My house had a few trees in the side yard, some sort of a fir tree. They were young trees, not every tall. When I drove pass my old house many years later, I was amazed. The trees are now taller than the house.

I have an empty dance card until Tuesday, unless you count a dump run on Sunday. To keep busy, I may have to do a few chores. I swept the downstairs a couple of days ago and ended up with a dust ball bigger than a soccer ball. Today I noticed the dust clumps are back. I feel a bit like Sisyphus but with a broom instead of a rock.