I am greeted every morning by both dogs as if I’ve been away for the longest time. They go out, come in for their morning treats then they’re back out again. This morning I went out on the deck with them and was thrilled by the weather. It is another lovely day. The breeze is cooling. It is 73˚, and the day won’t get much warmer than 75˚.

I’m planting today. I bought the rest of my flowers, some herbs and some soil yesterday. They are all deck bound. I am determined to finish today. I’ve been moving the plants a few at a time to the deck from the front yard where I carried them from the car. Nala follows me. I’m wary. She is a known plant thief.

When I think about flowers, I think about my mother’s little garden. It was in a small fenced off plot in the yard below the kitchen windows. A statue of St. Francis with his hands out was a bird feeder. The garden was filled with flowers. I used to like to watch the birds from the kitchen window. My mother loved feeding the birds, but the only birds she attracted were giant crows and pigeons, country pigeons she called them. She used to put the feeders in the middle of the clothes line to keep the spawns of Satan away. That didn’t work. The spawns did a high wire act across the line and dined al fresco.

When I was a kid, I never noticed flowers, but I noticed everything else which grew. I ate grapes from the arbor across the street, pears from the house beyond the fence and small green apples which were sour and hard to bite into, but they made great ammunition in an apple fight. That’s when I learned to duck quickly as those little apples hurt when they pelted their target, me.

I know things. I know that bad eggs float. Good eggs drop to the bottom. I can pluck a chicken or a turkey or anything else with feathers. I can pee in a hole with amazing accuracy. I can bargain for as long as it takes, and I can eat unfamiliar dishes without asking what they are or gagging once I find out. I consider myself multi-talented.

Today is a delight. The sun is bright and warm, but the strong breeze keeps the air cool. I’m glad for the plants I bought as I’ll be on the deck putting them in pots. It’s a great day to get dirty with potting soil. Yesterday, Nala stole one of my herbs just before I potted it, the oregano. She ran around the yard with the pot in her mouth. It was Nala’s game. When I’d get close, she’d run. Meanwhile, I found my other slipper. It is a bit sandy on the outside but none the worse for wear. As for the herb race, the oregano fell out of the pot. Nala picked that up and ran and ran. I gave up and sat on the stairs. Maybe next year the backyard will be covered in oregano.

Everything is quiet. I don’t hear a sound from the street. The house next door is rented, but I haven’t heard them either. The cape is filled with cars. Going anywhere is a test of patience. I usually fail. The air in my car turns blue.

When I was a senior in high school, my English teacher was Mrs. Baker, Ma Baker as we called her. I remember she wore suits with a jacket and skirt. We used to joke she had her fall- spring suit and her winter suit. She told us many times of her trips to England and Avon. My classroom had two doors, one in the front and one in the back. My seat was beside the back door. I got brave and sneaked out of class a couple of times. Once I convinced my friend Diane of the second row to escape with me. She did. The nuns would have called me an occasion of sin!!

Mrs. Baker was also my teacher for Speech and Debate class. Her room, the one with the two doors, had an elevated spot sort of like a stage in the front. She had us reading The Mikado in parts on that stage. We all felt a bit silly. That class was much smaller than my English class so I had to stay inside the room, no sneaking out.

My dance card is empty until Monday.