Yesterday was a quiet day. I wasn’t very productive. I had to fill two of the bird feeders I just filled. The hungry birds are many. After I went back inside, I watched from the kitchen window for a while. Dining at the new mixed seed feeder were goldfinches, mostly males with their bright yellow plumage. A lone, drab female goldfinch was in and out quickly. Chickadees ate at the new sunflower seed feeder. They all still avoid the third feeder, the one where a spawn’s weight trips the feeder and the sides come down to cover the seed holes. I’m going to replace it.

This morning I caught a spawn at the new feeder. When I chased it away, I checked and found the new feeder chewed at one seed hole. I moved the feeder to a spot further away from the deck hoping the space will give the spawn some second thoughts. If not, I will.

The early morning was chilly and cloudy, but it is supposed to be warm today. I noticed the sun is beginning to make an appearance as it bobs in and out of the clouds. I see a bit blue.

When I was a kid, the house across the street, the one with the grape arbor, had a bird house the same colors as the house. It was on a pole in their backyard. I never saw any birds in it, but I did see a few birds stealing grapes. My grandparents had a similar feeder also on a pole. I never saw birds there either. I always wondered why those bird houses were avoided. They were up high enough, but I remember they were a bit ugly being blunt squares with layers of paint. I figured they may have offended the sensibilities of the birds.

I remember getting a new pair of roller skates one Christmas. I remember sitting on the curb while I put my new skates on. There was a procedure to follow when putting on skates. First was the slide. It was moved, slid to fit my foot then the screw had to be tightened so the slide wouldn’t move. My shoes were next. I put my shod feet on the skates fit to the grips and then took off the lanyard, really a rope, from around my neck. It held my roller skate key, the one made infamous by Melanie. I liked to skate. could even skate backwards which I thought was a great feat. Sometimes, when I was skating magnificently, Olympic quality, my skate came off at the grips. I’d let it hang by the strap while I walked to the curb to put the skate back on. I always felt a bit silly with a hanging skate.

I loved the way my feet felt when I roller skated. They seemed to become part of the skates. It was quite Zen.

When I woke up, it was cloudy. That was almost a couple of hours ago. Now, every now and then, the sun is breaking through the clouds. My weatherman, aka Hey, Google, said 50˚ and partly cloudy today. The optimist in me would have preferred partly sunny.

When I was a kid, my family played games together. My parents taught my brother and me to play whist. It was always the girls against the boys, and the girls almost always won which irritated my father. He blamed my brother and wanted to trade partners for me. I wasn’t having it. My father was a in-game yeller. We played dominoes. I was the only kid I knew who could play the game and not just use dominoes as building blocks. Sorry was our favorite game. Our killer instincts were in play, and a Sorry card was the weapon of sorts. We could send any opponent’s man back to start. When I was young, a scream was the reaction. Now curses, vile curses, have taken the place of screams.

I learned to play cribbage by watching my father play my brother. I wasn’t very good at first, and, to his delight, my father usually won. Fast forward: I became competitive and knew the game. When I visited my parents, my father always wanted to play cribbage. I did too. We sat at the kitchen table where we played at least a couple of games and more than that if my father hadn’t won. He always said I was lucky. He also said he was the better player. I always scoffed. My favorite games were when I skunked him. I’d cheer for myself and raise my arms in triumph. He’d immediately demand another game. My favorite times were when we traveled. My father and I played cribbage just about every night after dinner. We had bought our cribbage board in Ireland as we had forgotten to pack one, a mortal sin. The only board we could find tilted a bit. That board traveled everywhere with us. We played on planes, and boats, in parks and hotel bars.

In my memory drawers, I remember those cribbage games we played overseas as my favorite among the hundreds of cribbage games we played. It didn’t matter if I won, okay it mattered a bit, but what mattered the most was I was playing the game with my father. We made memories together. I remember in Germany my mother read while my father and I played . He’d have a drink, my mother always packed whiskey. We’d eat some crackers and cheese from packs with yellow cheese, Ritz crackers and a small wooden spreader. My mother packed those too. We usually played until bedtime when I’d say goodnight and go to my room. I always slept well even if I lost.