Today is lovely. It is sunny and bright and in the high 60’s. This, for me, is perfect weather. Even the nights are wonderful with temperatures in the mid 50’s, light blanket and snuggling weather.
Nala and her cone are at odds. She comes to an impasse and stands with her head down. If I don’t see her, I go hunting. If she is out, I keep checking the backdoor as she can’t get in by herself, but she does sleep well with her head resting on her cone and often on me.
The concert yesterday was wonderful. The weather was perfect, the crowd was enthusiastic. Because of the dogs, I didn’t played all last week so I was loving being back with my uke.
When I was a kid, I loved everything about summer. The trees were heavy with leaves. I could find chestnuts below the tree at the top of the road. I’d smash them with a rock then eat the nut, the fruit. On rainy days, I’d go outside and get wet. I’d run in the rain and kick up the water in the gutters. I’d let paper boats float in the rapid water like the scene in the movie It though without Pennywise. I could stay outside later. The streetlights were no longer my curfew. Every day was mine to do what I wanted. I wasn’t a sloth back then. I was busy every day.
When I lived in Ghana, I had a lot of free time. My house was on school grounds so it only took a few minutes to get to class. In between classes, I’d walk home and usually have another cup of coffee while sitting on the porch. In the afternoons, I’d prepare classes and then read for the rest of the day, my routine until Bill and Peg moved to my school. We’d always eat dinner together and then have game nights. I played my music. I had a cassette recorder and tapes. I didn’t have a transformer, only an adapter, but I did have an amazing electrician. He attached a Christmas sort of bulb to the adapter to suck up the extra wattage. The bulb was red. It lit up the wall. I always thought it kind of festive.
My life now more than any other time resembles my Peace Corps days. I have unlimited time to read. I play my music but without the red bulb, a loss of sorts. I often take afternoon siestas. I shop at outside farmers’ markets.
Every day something reminds of Ghana. For that I am grateful.


