No sun again yesterday had me thinking I must be a character in the Ray Bradbury story All Summer in a Day. Today, though, is much lighter despite the clouds, and I swear it looks as if sunlight is struggling to break through. There are lots of errands to do today as I lolled and read yesterday. I haven’t told Gracie yet, but the dump is on the list.

My deck is a mess from all the wind and rain. It had been cleaned and readied for occupancy and now has to be again. The feeders are empty. I watched a cardinal hunting for pickings in the big feeder. After I get home, I’ll mosey out and do a bit of clean-up and give the birds their seed.

Today I’m mailing my passport to the Ghanaian embassy to get my visa. It will be accompanied by two applications, a money order, a return registered envelope and four very ugly passport pictures.

When I was a kid, my bicycle, after spending the winter in the cellar, needed to be spruced for spring. The chain had to be greased, the handle bars polished and the rest of the bike dusted. It was a heavy bike; they all were back then. It was difficult to get my bike out of the cellar because the stairs from the cellar were to the left of the door, and the bike just didn’t bend that way. Usually the best way was to hold the bike by the back fender and lift the front end into the air to turn it toward the stairs. I then pushed it up the stairs to the backyard.

I remember the joy of those first spring bike rides. The air was filled with the smells of flowers and of dirt freshly turned. My street was a hill, and that first ride was like flying. I never pedaled. The hill just took me and my bike. My small town was my world and once spring came, no where was beyond my reach.