Yesterday we had rain. I stayed around the house the whole day. The dogs went out into the yard. Neither one of them minds the rain. Today is cloudy. Snow is predicted for tomorrow, but, according to Google, we’re getting only an inch and a half. That hardly merits mention, but just in case, I asked Alexa. She is is predicting closer to three inches, not exactly a nor’easter.

I’m going out and about today, maybe even the dump, but I’m not sure, and I don’t want to raise your hopes.

My first airplane ride was an Easter gift when I was in college. There it was sticking out of my Easter basket. My parents had given me a ticket to Boston from Hyannis, a spectacular plane ride over the cape and the ocean just off shore. I tried to find my house by following Routes 6 and 28. I didn’t. I loved that plane ride. I was hooked.

My second plane ride was to Accra, Ghana from Philadelphia. The plane flew over the Cape. I tried to find my house. I didn’t. It took over ten hours, with a stop in Madrid, to get to Accra. We ate, we drank and we watched The Love Bug. None of us slept. I remember my seat belt got caught around my seat, and I couldn’t pull it free to use it. I remember the clinking of the glasses on the drink cart as it was pushed up the aisle. The aisle was busy. I remember running to the left side of the plane to see the Sahara. I was awed. There it was, the actual desert as far as we could see.

During my two years in Ghana, I would go on short hops from Tamale to Accra if I was in the money. I remember leaving Tamale after my two years for what I supposed was the last time. I put my head on the tray and quietly cried for the entire flight.

I flew from Niamey, Niger to Ougadougou, Burkina Faso (Upper Volta in my day) at the tail end of my vacation. I had gotten there overland, but I had gotten sick in Niamey and couldn’t face all that travel, hours of travel, so we flew. It was an Air France jet. Given the time change, we arrived in Ouga before we left Niamey. We stayed and slept at the Ouga airport as it had been the wee hours of the morning when we arrived.

Since then I have traveled. I have traveled in both prop and jet. I have been up in a balloon and in a helicopter. I have taken one cruise. I love trains and travel them whenever I can. I have to get back to Ghana one more time with my friends, Bill and Peg. I need to see my town and my students one more time. I’ll hold them close and keep them with me.

Grab the women and children! Run for the hills! We’re doomed. Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but it has been a long time since we last had sun, and today is sunny. To add to the wonder, the sky is blue. It is, however, quite cold at 27˚ with a wind making it feel colder. I will admire the pretty day from inside the house.

I woke up and slid off the mattress to the floor propelled by dogs wishing me good morning. It wasn’t a long drop. It was mostly a slide. My mattress top had shifted beyond the side of the mattress. I sat on nothing; hence, the slide.

I have ordered delivery from Agway. The dogs will expect to eat today. Yesterday I went out the back door, looked into the yard and noticed cloth. I knew right away what it was from its colors. It was the Asafo flag I brought back from Ghana, a flag of the Fante tribe representing militias of a sort from villages. The flag has hand stitch appliqué figures and dates from sometime before 1957. I ran into the yard horrified but hopeful. Nala, the destroyer of worlds, usually just drags cloth and its kin into the yard and leaves it intact. I picked it up-intact, no damage.

I decided to clean the yard a bit. It had torn paper and pieces of cartons strew about the yard close to the end of the deck. I knew the perp. What comes next is the surprise. A few days ago, maybe three or four, my 4 Red Sox wooden coasters and a beaded giraffe from Ghana disappeared from a living room table. Without question or hesitation, I knew the perp. I found one coaster in the house, but the rest went missing. Yesterday, with cloth safely in hand, I noticed near where the cloth had been left were a couple of shallow dog holes. Near the holes, I saw one then another red disc. I turned the red discs over. Two Red Sox coasters found, only one still missing. Next to one disc was the beaded giraffe, intact, unharmed. The biggest surprise was the small tagine top lying sideways in the dirt. The top with a white background and swirls of black across the white was a piece from one of the three, wonderfully colorful, small tagines I had brought back from Morocco. The top went missing months ago. Only the saucer like bottom had been left on the hearth. I never found the top. I finally adjusted to its loss and stopped looking at the empty saucer. Without question or hesitation, I knew the perp.

I couldn’t believe it. There it was, the tagine top, intact, lying on its side next to a mound of dirt. I felt a bit like an archaeologist. I held up my find, my serendipitous find, to the sun, proverbially. The tagine is back on the saucer on the hearth. I hope it stays there.

Wait!! There is more! As I was cleaning trash in there same area as the other finds, I unearthed the hand cream I had just bought. I didn’t even know it was missing yet, and here, I find it in the yard, near the dirt. The tube was fine, no holes.

The last find is a sad one. There were red thin slats on the ground in the yard. I knew right away what they had been. They were from the Santa’s suit basket, belt and below, my friend had brought me with some cookies, not enough, I think, warm, fuzzy socks, and bread. It was a neat basket. I found no large pieces. I could have collected all the individual pieces but it would have taken forever. I left them in the yard. Without question or hesitation, I knew the perp.