Today is spring, a pretty day sandwiched in between two rainy days. The sky is a spectacular blue. The slight breeze stirs only the ends of the smallest branches. My dafs have bloomed. Their yellow is striking. They are the brightest spot in the whole garden though the hyacinths are close behind and the forsythia has buds. That forsythia is as old as the house. It was a housewarming gift from my brother and his then girlfriend. When it was planted, it was alone in the garden. Now the garden blooms in so many colors from all the flowers, but the forsythia is front and center.

The dogs love this weather and are out for the longest time. This morning Nala came in first, usually Henry does. She was hoping for her morning treat so I went on the deck to look for Henry. He was in the lower 40, against the back fence. Henry is easy to spot with his white fur. He heard the word treat and came running. They both got a biscuit, a peanut butter biscuit, finished it then went back outside. They’ll be in for their spoonful of coffee.

When I was a kid, I’d ride my bike on a day like today. I lived on a hill. Riding down that hill and gathering speed made me almost giddy. It was a windy ride without the wind. I could feel the cold air up my sleeves. They billowed. I can still remember the joy of riding down that hill.

I lived in the project on one side of a duplex. It was a small project with maybe a dozen duplexes up the hill and around a small rotary in the cul-de-sac. Each side of the duplex mirrored the other side. It was a good place to live.

Most of my exploring was done alone. I’d jump on my bike, head down the hill and then decide my route. I had special places. One was the zoo. I’d walk my bike around all the cages and check out the animals. The elephant was my favorite.

Another route took me uptown. I’d walk my bike again, this time on the sidewalk while I checked out the windows. I watched the lobsters swimming in their tank at the fish market. That they were someone’s dinner never occurred to me. At Hank’s, the bakery, I’d wish I had money to buy even just one cookie. The ones in the window were sugar cookies, some frosted while other had sprinkles, the multi-colored ones. At Kennedy’s it was the cheese. A huge block of cheddar was by the door and another was in the window. I just wanted a chunk to eat on the way.

Another route took me by the golf course where I searched for balls. I always found at least one. From there I’d take a different route, a longer ride, to go home.

I’d be gone most of the day. Only the chill of the late afternoon had me heading for home. It was hot dogs, beans and brown bread night. It was bath night. After that, it was westerns on TV and staying up a bit later.

It was the most satisfying day.

The rain started late. I heard it hitting the window. The dogs went out anyway. It was a warm night, still 55˚ at two. The wind got wilder just as I went to bed. It was a stop and listen sort of wind, fierce and loud. Branches brushed the window. The last sound I heard before I fell asleep was the howling.

The morning was cloudy, but the sun broke through a bit ago. I can see the blue sky expanding and chasing away the clouds, a bit of a treat for a little while as the forecast is for scattered showers. It is 55˚.

Yesterday was my errand day. I even went to the dump. Today is an around the house day. I need to finish clearing Nala’s trash from the backyard. I’ll get to use my bright yellow prisoner trash stick again, and I’ll take down the Christmas flags and check my little library. (Oops, outside is on hold. The sky is dark and threatening. Rain is coming just as forecasted.)

My dafs are in bloom. Their bright yellow is striking. I am tired of brown and grey. It is time to celebrate the awakening of gardens and the warmth of spring.

When I was a kid, I remember walking to school on chilly mornings this time of year. Instead of winter layering, I wore a sweater under my spring jacket. I think I skipped to school.

My mother was the consummate April Fool’s Day joker. She was tricky. She always got my sister. I was wary when she’d call me. She was that good!

When I was a kid, I always gave up chocolate for Lent, but I never made it all the way through to Easter. The call of chocolate is too great. I tried to think about other things to sacrifice, but I had none. My mother nixed giving up vegetables. Giving up church was out of the conversation. I didn’t want a mortal sin, that blackened milk bottle in the Baltimore Catechism. I gave up nothing for Lent. Besides, I was never big on the concept.

I have been buying old black and white science fiction movies for summer viewing. It is time to reopen movies on the deck. I’ll start with a classic, maybe Beau Geste, the original, then move on to my new movies. Yesterday, The Monolith Monsters, a 1957 film, was delivered. Black rocks from a meteor crash are strewn all over the town. When they interact with water, they become gargantuan towers of rock which petrify anyone in the way. They can move by collapsing and then reforming. On the back of the cover is a wonderful description. Their path of destruction must end before they plow mankind into a stone-cold early grave.