Around 2, I was reading in bed. The dogs were comfortable, one beside me and the other at my feet. I thought I heard something so I put my book down to listen. It was an uncommon sound. I listened intently and then realized it was drops of rain. I listened longer just because it was the rain. This morning is still rainy, foggy and only 67°. I am so glad I chose not to wash the floors yesterday; instead, I planted the last of the flowers I had bought.

When I was a kid, the whole week loomed before me starting on Sunday nights when I had to go to bed early. “It’s a school night,” my mother would say as if I needed to be reminded. Monday mornings were the worst. Early was the word of the day: up early, dressed early and an early school morning breakfast of cocoa, eggs, cereal, either hot or cold, and toast. I’d bolt down my breakfast then grab my lunch box and my school bag before I was out the door for the walk to school.

When I was in the first grade, I had to memorize pages of answers from the catechism, the Baltimore Catechism. I remember some even now, 69 years later. Who made you? God made me. Who is God? God is the creator of all things. Where is God? God is everywhere. That last question had me thinking. Did that mean in bathrooms or at the movies? I pictured God in flowing robes enjoying himself on a Ferris wheel, but I never did ask those questions. I instinctively knew Sister Redempta would get mad.

One of the silliest things I remember was when we were told to make room for our guardian angels on our desk seats. I found sitting on half a seat uncomfortable, and besides, angels could fly. Why did mine need my seat? I didn’t ask that question either.

The best church service I ever attended was in Ghana, in Bawku. My Ghanaian sister invited me to a New Year’s Eve service at her church. It was amazing. It was filled with clapping, singing and dancing in the aisles. Women back then wore traditional clothing made from bright Ghanaian fabric. Flashes of color whirled by me as the women danced their way down the aisle. My sister grabbed me, and I joined the dancing, sort of, with my rhythmless steps, but the Ghanaians didn’t care I couldn’t dance. They smiled at me anyway, happy I had joined them.

My house still holds the night chill, but outside is warm, already 77°. It’s cloudy still, but the prediction is for sun and 82°. I have an empty dance card but still have a couple of things around the house to do, like washing the kitchen and bathroom floors. I bought some flowers on sale yesterday. One is a huge flowering plant which will need a big hole. I also bought some more rosemary and some lavender. I love the aromas of both of those plants. I run my hand up the rosemary stalks so my hand smells of rosemary. The lavender is for the front garden, the rosemary for the deck.

The nights are chilly now, down to the 60’s. They are not yet sweatshirt sweater, but that is coming. I did put socks on the other night, my first concession to the fading summer and the coming of fall.

Yesterday the roads were almost clear. Summer traffic has disappeared. Even the dump was nearly empty. I finished my three errands quickly. It was hot in the sun among the plants at Agway. I could have bought some more, but I needed to be in the cool store. Those plants are the ones waiting to be added to pots and to the garden. They will be the next chore. I bought two small pumpkins yesterday for the dining room table. They add color to my house.

Outside by the driveway one of the trees has red leaves. It is the first to wear fall.

When I was a kid, I used to collect and save all the red and yellow leaves. They were ironed into wax paper. Their colors never faded. My walk to school was under a canopy of tree limbs and leaves. I saw the leaves change color gradually. First came the reds, then the yellows, the brightest of all.

The mums on the front steps have bloomed, one is orange, the other yellow. They say, in their unique way, welcome to my house, welcome fall.