Posted tagged ‘57˚’

“Hope is a waking dream.”

July 31, 2017

Movie night was a success despite a couple of things. First, as I was taking the DVD of The Four Feathers out of its case, I broke it in half. Luckily I had a back-up, Robin Hood, with Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone. The crowd applauded at the end. It was a hit. The second issue was the cold. By the end of the movie it was 57˚. We had sweatshirts at the ready, but really, 57˚ and cold noses are late September, not mid-summer.

As I was getting the deck set for movie night, I was pelted with acorns. I knew it was a spawn of Satan hiding somewhere on a branch above me. I kept checking from the direction of the falling acorns, but I couldn’t see it. I saw a branch moving, but the spawn was well hidden, a sniper of sorts.

Today is warm and promises to be hot by early afternoon. I’m thinking some deck time under the umbrella with a cold drink and a good book will be a perfect way to spend the afternoon.

My laundry is in limbo. I washed it but left it in the washer so I’ll wash it again today then put it in the dryer. I haven’t anything else needing to be done. Yesterday was busy getting ready so today will be a vacation of sorts. I have leftovers so I don’t need to cook. There is still room in the trash so no dump. The den is back to being the den for the daytime as I folded and put away the sheet and pillow until tonight.

Turning 70 is a huge milestone. I’m thinking I need to do something amazing to celebrate the occasion. I have no idea what that is. When I was a little kid, I dreamed about the future, what I’d do and what I’d become. Though my life has been even larger than those dreams, I still have dreams. I’d like to sky dive and learn to dive in the ocean. I want to travel across America by train. I’d like one more visit to Ghana, in 2021, fifty years since I left the first time. Seeing Asia is also on my to go list. The only obstacle to both trips is, as always, saving enough money, but if I want to go badly enough, I’ll just have to do that. Dreams are hopes. We always need hopes.

“There’s nothing more beautiful than watching trees getting dressed up for Spring and Summer”

May 20, 2017

Today is much cooler than yesterday. Last night or rather this morning when I took Gracie out around 1:30 I was chilly, taken by surprise by how cold it had gotten. Today will be 57˚ and tonight will go down to 48˚. Yesterday afternoon I had my air conditioner on.

It rained yesterday for about fifteen minutes. The drops started out huge. They fell almost one at a time before they became smaller and more persistent. After the storm, the air smelled of summer rain.

Today is quiet. There are no kids playing or dogs barking. I don’t even hear a lawn mower. Even my house is quiet. Maddie and Gracie are sleeping.

I’ve seen three rabbits this week. One was a bit burly, and the other two were small. Gracie noticed the burly one in my front yard and scratched the door and barked hoping to get out. She didn’t. That we have rabbits tells me the coyotes are elsewhere. That also means the skunks are probably around.

I have one errand today and nothing else on my to-do list.

I hope to open my deck this week. It would have been the spot to be on those two hot days. The furniture needs to be uncovered and scrubbed. The decorations and candles need to be hung on the branches though finding enough spots might be trouble as some of the branches were cut down. The rug needs to be brought out. I have to buy my flowers for the window boxes and the herbs for the side garden. I have to buy gas for the grill as the first movie night means grilling for dinner. The list is long before I can welcome summer.

“I told my dentist my teeth are going yellow. He told me to wear a brown tie.”

April 9, 2017

My skepticism is draining away. Perhaps spring really is here as today is another sunny, warm day, a lovely day. It is already 57˚, today’s high. Gracie and I slept on the couch last night. She had such a difficult time with the stairs yesterday morning I didn’t want to put her through that again. The rest of the stair treads should be here tomorrow so we can move back upstairs. She went outside with me helping her down the stairs. I waited, but she disappeared from view. All of a sudden she reappeared from the other side of the deck. She came up the easy stairs. That’s one smart dog.

Tonight is game night. We’re having pizza and playing Phase 10 and Sorry. We’ll watch The Amazing Race recorded the other night. That’s been a long time tradition.

When I was going through catalogs the other day, I saw jelly nougats for sale and a memory jumped into my head. When I was nearly 8, I started wearing braces. Back then, braces were not all that common. I remember closing my mouth for my school picture so you couldn’t see the braces. I was a bit self-conscious. There were only a few orthodontists. The office I went to was in Boston on Commonwealth Ave. My mother had to get a babysitter for my two sisters then she and I would walk uptown to get the bus to Sullivan Square then the subway close to the office. The office was on the first floor of a beautiful old house. It was a living room with comfy sofas. The nurse’s desk was there, and the doctor’s office was behind a door in the front of the room. His name was Dr. Nice.

After my appointment, we’d backtrack to Sullivan Square. We had to walk upstairs to the bus station. Right in the middle of that station was a news kiosk. It sold papers, magazines, and candy. My mother often let me choose a bar of candy. I remember picking the jelly nougat. I liked the colors of the jellies, and the way they looked in the nougat. With tightened braces, the nougat was a bit tricky to eat, but I managed. We’d get to Stoneham, and sometimes we’d stop to buy my lunch to take to school. I remember the bread was toasted. My mother would then walk me to school a few blocks away from the squar

I always liked the before and after of those appointments. I got to be alone with my mother, ride the subway, be late to school and eat a lunch bought from a restaurant. The day would have been perfect if we took away the orthodontist.

“I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers: / Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. / I sing of maypoles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, / Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.”

June 10, 2016

This morning it was 5:30 when I woke up. It was cold, only 57˚. The dog and Fern were huddled beside me. I decided to get out of bed, grab a cup of coffee and read the papers. By the time I had finished reading, it was time to get dressed and meet friends for breakfast. We met at a cafe by the water, an outside restaurant, and it was really cold. The nautical flags were flapping on the breeze, and I could hear the clink of their grommets hitting the pole. That cold wind changed our minds so we opted to find an inside restaurant. Breakfast was delicious.

Tonight is the first play of the season at the Cape Playhouse, a summer theater since 1927. I’ve had season tickets for decades. I remember when I first started going people dressed up for the theater. Men wore suits and ties and women wore dresses. The few tourists looked uneasy and out of place in shorts and t-shirts. Well-known TV and movie stars were in the plays, and we saw a new play every week. Over the years much has changed. Dress is now haphazard, the plays change every two weeks, and the stars are mostly from Broadway, and I really don’t know many. That, however, hasn’t changed the quality of the plays. Tonight is Last of the Red Hot Lovers, and it got wonderful reviews. I always think of the first play as the start of summer.

Rituals change the seasons for me. The first play is the start of summer. The first tree with   its leaves changing color is fall. Thanksgiving is fall’s last hurrah. Winter begins with frost and light snow early in December. It seems to last the longest of any season. Even when the days start to get warmer, the nights and mornings stay cold. Baseball, the game of summer, is played in temperatures befitting winter. Watching the game on television is far better than freezing in a stadium. When a game is played on a warm Sunday afternoon and the crowd is in short sleeve shirts, I’ll start to believe in summer.

“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”

August 25, 2013

Last  night I put on socks as my feet were cold. I even closed the window behind me in the den. The night got down to 57˚. This morning the house was only 64˚so I went outside where it was much warmer to read the papers and have my coffee. At first it was quiet with only the sounds of the birds then some neighbors went out on their deck. I call them the loud neighbors as I usually can hear them, especially when they argue, and when their language gets a bit salty. I met her once. She was smoking and wore curlers in her hair, those huge curlers. I swear she could have been someone from the mid-60’s pulled out of time to here. Her complaint was I call at night for my dog Carol too much. I told her I’d never call Carol again. They didn’t stay outside long this morning, and I’m grateful as I have just the sounds of birds again.

All the signs of the coming autumn are moving into place. The den gets darker in the late afternoon now because the sun is setting so much earlier than it was a few scant weeks ago. My autumn clematis is filled with buds and has taken over one section of the front fence. It will be glorious when the flowers bloom. The rental next to me is empty this next week. The garden centers are filled with mums and ornamental cabbage and all the other fall plants. I’ve got a hankering for a garden run.

I think this is my favorite time of the year. Even when I was a kid, I loved the autumn. My town had all different varieties of trees lining the sidewalks and in the front yards, unlike the cape with its scrub pines and oaks. Those trees were full and brilliant in the fall and were a palette of reds and yellows. It was like walking in a rainbow when I went to school. We always picked up the prettiest leaves and put them in our school books so they’d flatten. I was partial to yellow. Every fall we’d iron our favorite leaves between pieces of wax paper. It was our way of saving the beauty of the season for we knew it wouldn’t be too long before we’d be walking along the curbside kicking piles of dead, brown leaves as we walked to school.