The days are pretty this time of year. The sun is always bright though not always warm. That will come in time. Pops of color are everywhere. My front garden has white flowers, purple flowers in different shades, a few pink flowers and one bright, perfectly round yellow forsythia of advanced age. I love standing and leaning against the car to look at my garden in the mornings.

Today is cool, somewhere between a sweatshirt and a flannel shirt. I may go out but I may wait until tomorrow when I have an appointment. I like to combine errands.

When I was a kid, I liked school. I didn’t count days until vacations. I just let them come. This time of year the afternoons were lighter and warmer. My bike came out of the cellar. I mostly rode around the neighborhood on weekdays. Every nice afternoon, I’d ride a few streets over and back in different directions. The spring air was coldest downhill from my house. Sometimes the sleeves of my jacket puffed, and I’d laugh and spread out my arms for the wind to take, but it made my balance precarious. I’d have to grab the handlebars especially as I neared the bottom of the hill.

During recess a couple of groups of girls staked space in the schoolyard for jump roping. The boys played at the two basketball hoops. Those were the sides of the schoolyard: one side girl’s, one side boys’. I was never a jump roper so my friends and I just stood in a group talking. On the other side boys did something. They never just stood. Usually lines weren’t crossed except when it was time to go back inside. After the bell, we lined up in rows of twos, girls in front, boys in back. It looked regimented, but I never felt that way. Lines went into three different doors depending on grade: one in the old school and two in the new school. The stand-out memory of recess for me is when I punched some boy in the face. He was harassing my friend and wouldn’t stop so I stopped him. My punch was quite effective. I never got into trouble for that. I told Sister Superior the facts. She reprimanded the boy. Sister Superior was far ahead of her time.

When I woke up, I looked out my bedroom window, the same as I do every morning. I could see the blue sky and lots of sun. Not even the smallest branch was moving. When I got downstairs, I went put on the deck while Henry was in the yard. It’s chillier than I expected, 51˚. It won’t get much warmer. I don’t care as I’m staying home again today. I want to wash the kitchen floor. Paw prints lead from the door to the hall from the rain the other day.

I remember Miss Emily and Miss Mamie Baldwin from The Waltons. The Miss is used respectfully when speaking to or about elderly women. I heard it on a program the other night referring to an elderly neighbor who bakes cakes for new neighbors. Now I have first hand experience. My friends who used to be my neighbors call me Miss Kath. I have reached the dignified age.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t into fashion yet I forecasted a trend. One Easter I told my mother I didn’t want a dress I’d probably never wear again. I wanted new pants, a new blouse and a blazer sort of jacket. I wanted a pants suit at a time where there were no pants suits. My mother shopped and found me the perfect combination. I couldn’t wear the pants to church, but I did wear them the rest of the day. I have a distinct memory of that Easter. We were at my grandparents. As usual my grandmother, my mother and the aunts were in the kitchen. As I was coming down the stairs, I heard one of my aunts ask my mother why I wasn’t wearing new Easter clothes, meaning an Easter dress. My mother told her I was wearing what I wanted and that ended it. Little did the aunt know I was actually a fashionista.

I thought I bought non-clumping litter. I didn’t. The clumps are the size of little mountains. The cleaning scoop is to small. I need a shovel. I have more litter ordered from Amazon due today. It is non-clumping. I made sure.

The new lights for the deck are ordered, two sets of them. Henry won’t go out the dog door late at night into the darkness. When there were lights on the rail, he was fine. Now I have to get up and let him out. I have to let him in too Why do I still have a dog door?

My today will be a half sloth day starting after I sweep and wash the kitchen floor, but I’m starting to hate sitting here in the den where I can see the dust on the wooden boxes along the side of the wall. My solution: I’ve decided not to look.