The morning is ugly, hot, cloudy and humid. It will stay the same all day. The only saving grace is a small breeze. This is weather befitting August, not September. The dogs aren’t enjoying the weather much either as they come inside panting. I figure they’ll spend the day napping.

The morning is quiet. I don’t hear any voices, any dogs barking or even any cars driving by. Every now and then I can hear the sweet music from the chimes hanging on trees in the backyard. I think the thick air is muting sounds.

Henry is a strange dog, has always been a strange dog. His latest fear is the den light. Its cord is in a power strip but it is loose. Every now and then the light blinks a few times when the cord is moved. Henry jumps off the couch and starts barking every time.

I walk better than I have been walking, but my leg still hurts. The doctor did say 3-5 weeks, and this is week 3, I think. I have lost track of time. Being inside and seeing no one has me losing track of the world. I talk on the phone to people who call to check up on me, but that is my only connection. I am a sort of Robinson Caruso without a Friday.

I have no inclination to do anything. I much prefer fighting for space on the couch. My defense is my leg feels best when I sit so this is a matter of health, not laziness.

When I was a kid, fall was my favorite season. The weather was a delight. The air was clear of summer’s humidity. The light had a sharpness. Everywhere I walked I saw beauty, the colors of the leaves. They seemed to surround me. My favorites were the orange-red leaves. I used to choose the best ones. I’d place the leaves on wax paper, cover them with the paper and iron. The leaves were bright and beautiful forever.

This morning I noticed a few red-yellow leaves on a tree over the deck. Fall has announced its arrival. The season is changing. The days are still warm, but the nights are chilly, perfect for sleeping. The daylight is less. Night comes quicker. Summer is having its last hurrah.

When I was a kid, the change in season meant a change in wardrobe. The mornings were chilly so my mother made us wear a light jacket for the walk to school, but by afternoon, the jacket was too warm. I used to tie it around my waist for the walk home. I remember in the afternoons the sun slanted a different way than it had all summer. After school we played outside in the shadows.

My mother always bought Oreos. They never lasted long. She’d pack them in lunches, and we’d grab a few for snacks. I used to separate the sides. I’d eat the plain side first then scrape my teeth across the white before I ate that side. My sisters used to eat the white and feed the cookies to Duke, our dog. I still love Oreos, double stuffed is my favorite, but I am also partial to chocolate covered Oreos. I think they are my favorite cookie.

I grew up with television. I knew all the theme songs, and I could sing along with all the commercials. All of them seemed to have their own catchy songs. I remember Chew Chew Charlie the engineer who powered his train with Good and Plenty. Bucky Beaver was an orthodontist’s dream. He pitched Ipana, a toothpaste. The Kool-Aid Man broke through the door. I still don’t understand why. My mother never bought Kool-Aid. She said it needed too much sugar. Cigarette commercials were the most common. They sang and danced their way cross the small screen. My parents smoked Pall Malls in the red package. They were unfiltered. I remember my mother picking pieces of tobacco off her tongue.

I have had an empty dance card for a few weeks. I am the sloth queen. I have been resting my leg, and I have also been bored. My house is quiet. I watch TV or I read. Every now and then I nap on the couch. The dogs usually join me so it a fight for space. I usually lose. I hope to rejoin the world next week starting with uke practice on Tuesday. It is time.