The coffee is delicious. I think it is from Honduras. The toast with peanut butter hit the spot. I even shared a little with the dogs, and that was a huge sacrifice. This morning is quiet. The only sounds I hear are the insects singing as they warm their wings in the sun. It is a chilly morning. The house is so cold I put on a sweatshirt. The sky is a bit cloudy. It will be in the low 70’s today. It will be a pretty day.

When I was a kid, Saturday was the best day of the week. I didn’t have to go to church. I had no homework to do, and my favorite programs were on in the morning. I could lie on the rug in front of the TV, eat my Rice Krispies and watch my programs. I loved Captain Midnight. He gave me my first taste of science fiction, and I was hooked. Sometimes, after my breakfast, I roamed. I walked around town. I loved to window shop in the square. I always wished I had enough money for a chocolate cupcake from Hank’s. I loved the sweetness of Hank’s window and the aroma of fresh bread baking wafting out the door. In the Stoneham Spa, I always wanted a lime rickey. On the wall there was a sign touting the drink, but I had no idea what a lime rickey was, and I had never tasted a lime. The drug store always made their cokes. My favorite was a vanilla coke. I looked at the cheese shop windows and the barrels of cheese in front of the store, mostly cheddar, but I wasn’t tempted. My fifty cent allowance would allow me to buy a new book and have a penny leftover for a fireball.

I remember wearing sleeveless blouses in the summer usually with a pair of shorts and sneakers. The tan on my arms started at the shoulder. My face and arms have always had freckles, compliments of my mother’s gene pool. Every summer I’d get more, and the ones I had popped in the sun. They always made me look even more tan than I was.

Today I have some house chores. The bed needs changing, and I need to hang my new American flag and the Ghanaian flag already on a pole. My front yard will be adorned. I have a few things needing to be placed somewhere in the yard, an oil lantern, a metal bird and a couple of whirligigs. I bought a new tool, a rechargeable screwdriver type drill. I’ll use it today for the first time. I’ll be careful. I know how I am around tools.

The clematis on the fence and the pole has started to bloom. The bees are back. They just loved the clematis even more than I do.

I should be singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” Today has the feel of fall about it, a lovely feel of fall. The temperature is 63°, and the high will only reach 73° with little humidity. The sun is really bright. Everything is still. All the doors and windows are open. The dogs skipped their morning naps to stay outside.

I am going out and about today. I’m going to the hardware store to buy a screw gun or whatever it’s called. I have a few things to hang outside. I’m getting so handy!

I have had a burst of energy the last couple of days. I have rearranged all sorts of doohickeys in the living room and kitchen. This morning I brought up old pictures from the cellar which I had totally forgotten. I was down the cellar to wash the spread from my bed when I saw a box with frames sticking out of it. Yup, you read that right. I was washing my spread. It never sat by the cellar door for days growing legs. I’ll have to note this event in my diary. Anyway, I found an old woven frame with a print of beautiful flowers inside. I’ll be carrying it around the house until I find the perfect spot.

When I was a kid, I never noticed pictures on the walls except for the one in the bathroom right across from the toilet. I read it all the time I sat. It was a poem. A small boy in a blue robe holding a towel, soap and a brush was beside of the poem. It was a Mabel Lucie Attwell wall plaque. I read it so many times I had it memorized. “Please remember – don’t forget – never leave the bathroom wet,” was how the poem started. On a trip to Ireland, that every same picture, the original, was on the wall of the bathroom. I tried to buy it, no deal. I then went hunting on line and found a metal reproduction. I ordered it and gave it to my mother in her Christmas stocking. She was thrilled when she opened it and couldn’t believe I had remembered the poem. When she passed away, I took the metal plaque and put it in my bathroom. I see it every day and every day I am reminded of my mother.