Today is warm at 43˚. It’s raining, making for another ugly day. I mind the cold rain, but the dogs don’t. Both of them have been in and out. Both dogs come back inside wet. They are the first dogs I’ve had who willingly go out into the rain. The others needed to be encouraged.

My house is being cleaned. My only contributions are the check and moving out of the den so it can be cleaned. I have had a cleaning lady seemingly forever. In Ghana, it was Thomas who cleaned. For many years it was Lee and Rosanna. I still miss them. I have a new cleaning lady, new in October, Maria. She speaks very little English. She mostly smiles and nods her head no matter what I say. An end of the world warning would get the same smile and nodding of the head. I could try my father’s way of communication to a non-English speaker. I’ll just talk louder and enunciate better.

This morning I was up early before the rain. When I went to get the paper, I could smell the morning. I love mornings. When I travel, I am up and out early. I walk the streets. I watch stores opening, trucks delivering and people heading to work. Those mornings have a haste, but I take my time. Mornings anywhere seem to have a far different feel, a far different smell than the rest of the day. The smell is of the trucks, of coffee brewing in open store fronts and of bread. I walk, drink and munch.

Mornings in Ghana smelled of wood fires from the compounds around my house. Every morning the students swept the school grounds. They chattered in a variety of tribal languages as they swept. I recognized Twi, the language of the Ashanti, and FraFra, the local language. My students always greeted me in English, “Good morning, madam.” The mornings were the coolest part of the day despite the season, wet or dry. In the dry season, during the harmattan, the mornings were cold. My students dressed in layers. I relished the cold and never added any layers for warmth. I never imagined I’d feel cold in Ghana, but it was only in the morning, my favorite part of the day.

The house feels different. When I go to the cats’ room and don’t see Gwen sitting on her rug waiting for me, I feel even greater sadness at losing her. Poor Jack stands on the stairs and meows for his sister. The dogs don’t notice so much. Gwen tended to stay in the cats’ room. She loved to drive Nala to distraction. Her rug was just out of Nala’s reach. It drove the dog crazy. Poor Nala cried and whined.

I brought Gwen’s comfy rugs downstairs to wash them. I put them in front of the cellar door so I’d remember to take them downstairs to the washer. One rug was missing this morning. I went into the yard and found it. It crossed my mind that Nala was being a bit vindictive. She must have recognized the rug.

This will be short. Words today are elusive. My biggest accomplishment so far is I put on clean cozies. I do have a car full of trash so maybe I ought to make the effort to go to the dump. Perhaps I should add a stop for a bit of chocolate.