Posted tagged ‘rain’
September 28, 2012
The rain stayed away yesterday, but today is already damp and dark so I figure we’ll get the promised rain later today. Gracie loves a cool morning, and she was out long enough to make me paranoid enough to check. I know she can’t jump the 6 foot fence anymore, but she still tries. Right now is her morning nap time.
The only light in this room is the laptop. Everything outside is still and quiet. I always like this kind of a morning. Actually, I love most sorts of mornings. I love the first gasp of breath when I go outside on a cold morning and the walk across the crisp, frosted grass to get my papers. Rainy mornings mean a run to get the papers and a day planned around a good book and an afghan across my legs. Snowy mornings have me checking how many inches have fallen. In the spring I love the smell of mornings. There is such a freshness to the start of the day when the the world is waking up from winter. Summer mornings are my favorite of all.
When I was really young, I never noticed the mornings. I was too grumpy being dragged out of bed, forced to put on my school uniform, eat breakfast and then walk to school. Every weekday was pretty much the same. The only sort of day which got my attention was when it rained. That meant wet shoes coming and going and staying inside at lunch instead of having recess.
I notice every morning now. I love the sounds of the birds and summers on the deck having coffee and reading the papers. I watch the birds flying in and out at the feeders. I curse the spawns of Satan. My deck will be closed down this weekend, and I’m sad. The furniture will be covered and the candles taken down from the trees. I’ll go out to check on the dog and to fill the feeders, and when I do, I’ll long for summer again.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Gracie, mornings, rain, school days, school uniform, smells of the morning
Comments: 10 Comments
September 27, 2012
I want snow and cold. They will be cause for hibernation by the elderly whose cars will then lie fallow in garages for the season. Yesterday was the worst. I spent what seemed like hours behind a driver going 20 then up to a high speed of 25. The line of cars behind me stretched for miles. Finally the driver turned right and went through a red light to a parking lot beyond. I figured he thought the light was optional. I breathed a sigh of relief until I caught up with the car in front of me, a car from Florida. That one was going so slowly I swear two walkers passed it on the road. I even think one of them was using crutches. A detour did me in as every car had to go my way. The one in front of me put brakes on at every curve, however slight, and took my exact route home. The cars, again, were massed behind me. We could have been a parade.
Rain is expected starting today then through the weekend. The sun was bright earlier but is now behind the clouds. It’s warm. I stayed outside a while and checked out my front garden. The mums planted last year have blossoms. I saw white, yellow and deep rust buds. My flowers are close to adorning the garden.
My daily life is almost back to normal. Last night I lasted until after 11 then woke up this morning at 7, the latest I’ve slept since my return. It is difficult to believe that a week and a half ago I was in Africa. Sometimes I even find it difficult to believe I actually lived in Africa, a place so different than here. When I’m there, every day seems perfectly natural: shopping in the market, greeting people in FraFra or Hausa, eating with my right hand and enjoying goat or plantain or rice with a few rocks, well, pebbles anyway, and constantly sweating from the heat. When I’m here, all of that seems more like a dream, something I conjured from a book I read or a movie I’d seen. But it isn’t: all of it is real, every wonderful day of my adventure.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Africa, Cape drivers, FraFra, Ghana, rain, slow cars
Comments: 17 Comments
September 22, 2012
Yesterday the rain left the day humid and damp. Late last night it rained again. This morning is dark and gray. I have absolutely no inclination to go out and about. I might not even get dressed. My iPad has a few new books, perfect ones to while away a day, books with good guys and bad guys, buried treasure and a few murders. I might even watch a bit of TV. Today is deadly bug day on Syfy with wasps, alien insects set on world domination and monstrous spiders. The bugs are the opening act for tonight’s new movie about spiders from the Middle East called camel spiders who have a taste for humans.
I think the young me would approve of the much older me. Back then I had huge dreams and all sorts of ideas about who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. I saw myself as a lawyer, maybe even the first female Perry Mason, or a teacher, an inspirer, and I knew I’d travel the world to visit places from the pages of my geography books. Even though I was growing up in the 50’s I never thought of being female as limiting, never even realized that a dress and pearls were de rigueur. I always knew I’d go to college even though no one in my family ever had. My best friends in high school were two guys, and we did all sorts of neat things and pushed the boundaries as far as we dared. My friends and I roamed Cambridge, Harvard Square, when it was the neatest place. We were comfortable just about anywhere. Once we celebrated Mardi Tuesday with a picnic at the library where we sat hidden between the stacks on the third floor. We thought of ourselves as rebels. We saw foreign movies with subtitles and felt worldly. We were daredevils sledding with our toboggan on hills everyone avoided. The bumps sent us airborne.
I learned long ago that life is an adventure to be savored, and in all these years, I have seldom been disappointed.
Categories: Musings
Tags: adventure, Cambridge, Harvard Square, life, pearls, Perry Mason, rain, Spider, spiders, Syfy
Comments: 11 Comments
September 6, 2012
Yesterday morning the rain started around 7 in the morning and when I went to sleep around 9:30 it was still raining. We had come into town for market day, but the rain pretty much washed that away. I sat under an awning, a tin awning, at a local spot and had coffee and an egg sandwich. The coffee is still Nescafe instant and the milk evaporated, but I have built up an acceptance of my lot and don’t mind it.
The rains were so heavy yesterday that the roads to the villages washed away in places. The river overflowed its banks and inundated houses and millet fields. Even Bea and Grace, my students, were amazed by how much water was in the fields.
The main street where I was sitting was almost empty of people. The few walking had umbrellas or just got soaked. This morning was still cloudy though a bit later in the morning blue appeared only to disappear when the rain came, only small-small rain as the Ghanaians would say. It is now after 1 in the afternoon, and the sun is beginning to make an appearance.
This morning we went to Paga, to Pikworo Slave Camp. It was active in the later 16th century up to about 1840 or so. It held 200 slaves and according to our guide, they were tied to the trees much of the day. We walked up into the hills and saw the grinding rock where food was ground and bowls carved in the rock. The water trough was filled with water and we were told the water never left, even in the dry season. There was a rock, called the entertainment center, which made different sounds when hit with rocks so it was used as a drum with the slaves hitting them with rocks to produce the rhythm. There were drummers there who played and sang for us just as the slaves would have played the rock. If a slave tried to escape, he was placed tied up and naked on the punishment rock in the sun. If he survived the heat of the day despite no water he would be allowed to remain alive. Many, though, died from the intense heat of the sun. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for the slaves waiting to be taken away from their homes. Once they left Paga, they would be brought to the coast where many were shipped to America.
I will be leaving here on Monday to make my way down coast with a stop to see the monkeys then overnight in Koforidua, where I had a part of my training. I’ll be back in town on Saturday for market day and will post then.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bolga, drums, Ghana, market day, Paga, rain, rainy season, slave camp Pikwoko
Comments: 16 Comments
August 16, 2012
Last night was wonderful. First came the rumbles of thunder then the lightning. I went outside on the deck for a while and watched the sky being lit up by small jagged bolts. Every now and then a giant bolt of lightning would surprise me as it spread across the sky and lit the night. It rained, slowly at first then with a bit more intensity. I can always judge the amount of rain fall by Gracie. If she stays out, the rain isn’t much. If she runs in, it must be pouring.
Today is drier than it’s been so the air feels cooler without all the humidity. The breeze is ever so slight. I’m thinking the deck and a book will be perfect for today.
I learned to tell time when I was in the second grade. My aunt taught me. Later I found out why. That aunt, always and forever my favorite aunt, gave me a Cinderella watch for my first communion gift. I remember that watch perfectly. It had a light blue band and Cinderella, the face of my watch, was wearing a light blue gown. She was Princess Cinderella. I was thrilled with that gift and would make a big production of bending my elbow and raising my wrist to my face so I could check the time. I wanted my friends to notice my watch and be jealous.
I don’t wear a watch and haven’t for a long time. I have two of them, both gifts. The one I cherish was a 50th birthday gift from my mother. The watch is beautiful with a red band and silver decorations on it and around the watch, also silver. I wear it as an accessory sometimes, never as a timekeeper. The other watch was the proverbial thanks for your service here is a watch. It was a gift from the district when I retired. On its face is a promo for the district. I never wear that one.
When I travel, I generally bring a watch. I pin it to the inside of my bag. In the old backpacking days, I needed to know the time so I could catch a bus or a train. When I got to Ghana, I found out time there is relative. I needed a watch only to know when to teach. I always woke up early so an alarm wasn’t necessary and when I traveled, buses, other than those run by the country, leave when they’re full so a watch is a waste. It only made me impatient. Ghana has two time zones so to speak: European time and Ghanaian time. The first means the actual hour like be there at seven; the second means whenever you get there. It takes a bit of getting used to, but once you do, it makes life so much easier and far less hectic.
I’ll pin a watch to my bag this trip just as I did last year. I like to know the time when the roosters wake me up.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Cinderella watches, Ghana, learning to tell time, lightning, rain, roosters, time, travel, Watch, wearing a watch
Comments: 15 Comments
August 11, 2012
Yesterday it rained. Last night it poured. I was at the Cape Playhouse to see Kiss Me Kate when the heavy rain started. It pelted the roof so loudly I saw most of the people in front of me look up as if they were expecting to see drops falling. After what seemed like a long time, the heavy rains were finally quiet. By the time the play was over, the ground had absorbed most of it.
This morning we still have rain, small intermittent drops of rain. Condensation is on the outside of my windows from the AC interacting with the humidity. It’s what I call the glasses effect. When I leave the cold car, my glasses fog over and I can’t see. I stop and wipe them before I bump into someone or something. It always amuses me a bit.
In the summer, my mother was reluctant at first but after a while was only too happy to let us out of the house when it rained. When we were stuck inside, boredom settled in quickly then the fights started, the he called me this and she called me that sort of fight. My mother always yelled for us to stop, and that worked for a few minutes but then back we’d go to sniping at each other. We’d ask if we could go outside, and she usually agreed. With us gone, peace was restored in the house.
We’d put leaves or paper boats in the gutters and watch them float down the street. We’d whip branches and soak each other. Sometimes we’d take our bikes and ride as fast as we could through puddles so the spray would fly into the air on each side of the bike. We got soaked.
When we’d go back into the house, my mother would make us take off our sneakers then she’d send us upstairs to change into dry clothes. Our feet were usually so wet we always left footprints on the wood floor. I always liked that part.
Categories: Musings
Tags: condensation, getting soaked, humidity, rain, steamed glasses
Comments: 15 Comments
July 24, 2012
I thought I heard rain this morning, but I just turned over and went back to sleep and slept in. I didn’t wake up until 9:30. I even went to bed early for me last night so this was a where’s my prince sort of deep sleep. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see the Seven Dwarves standing by my bedside. The streets were damp when I went to get the paper so it had rained, and that little rain brought us a cloudy day and thick humidity. The sun is appearing infrequently as if it doesn’t really care one way or the other. The paper predicts a hot day.
Sounds are always muted in the humidity. The thickness of the air drowns everything and brings a sort of lethargy. Even the leaves on the oak trees barely stir. The house is cloudy day dark and the window here does little to lighten the room. It’s morning nap time for Fern, Maddie and Gracie. The loudest noise in the house is the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard.
When I lived in Ghana, I had a Honda 70. It was the demure moto, as the Ghanaians call motorcycles, for a woman who always wore a dress. My first year volunteers weren’t allowed motorcycles, but when that changed my second year, I bought one. My first trip, just after learning to ride it, was the hundred miles from Tamale where I bought the bike to Bolga where I lived. I loved that ride. It was a freedom I had never felt in a crowded lorry with every seat taken, people sitting in the middle on small stools and a few chickens and goats along for the ride. That moto gave me the freedom to take back roads leading to the small villages which ringed Bolga. I always brought a canister of extra gas. My friends and I would usually go together; Bill took the baby Kevin safely tied in a backpack and I took Peg his wife on the back of my bike. We’d often bring lunch and stop for a picnic. Those were fun days as we found ourselves in amazing places. Once some guys hauled our bikes across a small pond and we sat by a village watering hole to have lunch. Small boys stood around and watched us. The guys at the pond waited for us to finish as we had given them half a cedi for one way and told them we’d give them the other half if they waited to take the bikes back. That was a lot of money in those days. Another time we went to Tongo. We had brought a small charcoal burner and hot dogs that came in a can to cook almost like at a real barbecue. We set up the burner on a rock. A bit later a man came and yelled at us in FraFra. The small boys in school uniforms who had been standing around and watching us translated. The man wanted money to appease the gods on whose rock we had rested the burner, but the rock had bird poop on it so we didn’t buy his story figuring it was another scam for money. His response was something along the lines of misfortunes would follow us, but that too we ignored. We finished and packed up to leave. Not far from the rock, Bill’s bike stopped suddenly for no reason. We looked at each other wondering, but Bill’s bike restarted with no problem. We were just glad the old man hadn’t seen it.
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: Bolga, Honda 90, humidity, Motos, Peace Corps Ghana, rain, sacred rock, Tamale, Tongo, villages
Comments: 8 Comments
July 19, 2012
Late yesterday afternoon, the thunder and lightning were spectacular. I stood at the front door and watched. The house shook a couple of times and I could hear the rumbling all around me. The rain came down hard but didn’t last as long I’d hoped. What it did do, however, was even better. It took all the humidity with it and left us with a much cooler evening. I turned off the AC and opened all the windows and the two doors. It was easy to fall asleep.
This morning dawned cool and cloudy. Gracie is loving having the back door open as she has access to her dog door and can come and go as she pleases. She’s been outside all morning. I even joined her for a while. From the open windows, I can hear the world for the first time in days. Gone is the solitude. Some kid is screaming, and the renters next door are having a conversation. Dogs are barking, and I can hear the click of Gracie’s collar as she runs around the yard. She joins the chorus of barkers every now and then to let them know she’s here.
Yesterday I got a call from Texas, from a Ghanaian living there now who attended Women’s Training College in Bolga. She started there the year after I had left so we were never acquainted. Assan got my number when she went back to Bolga and thought she’d connect. It was a wonderful conversation. She knows many of my former students who were her seniors. She explained the reason she called was to apologize about missing the big reunion late this summer. I didn’t even know there was going to be one. It seems the students I met last year have been rallying the troops to come this summer to Bolga while I’ll be there. They’re hoping to have a huge party. I think it’s wonderful.
Grace called me from Ghana yesterday, and she sang Leaving on a Jet Plane, Miss Ryan’s song. She told me she was counting the days until my arrival and can hardly wait. She’ll come north with me and we’ll do a bit of touring as I hope to make a few stops in the Volta Region, places I have wanted to see like the Volta Lake, the dam and the monkey sanctuary. She’ll also stay with Francisca and me in the village.
My passport came back yesterday with my Ghanaian visa. I got one for multiple re-entries which is good for two years so this time so it won’t expire before I leave the way it did last year. The trip is more than a month away, but I am really getting excited to go. This time I know I’ll see my students and I’ll get to live in the village. Even better, we’ll party!
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bolga, Gracie, party, rain, reunion, thunder, Volta Lake, Volta Region, Women's Training College
Comments: 16 Comments
July 16, 2012
The day is breezy and sunny. It’s also warm and will stay that way through tomorrow when the high is predicted to be 88˚. Last night we had rain. The drops started slowly around one. I know that because that’s when I went upstairs to bed and that’s when I found the dead mouse in my room. Earlier I had heard the ruckus and knew Maddie was the cause of the noise. It didn’t occur to me she was playing with a mouse. That’s the third one in a little over a week. There must be a small welcome mat outside the cellar walls. I wrapped the deceased in paper and took it outside. That’s when I felt the rain. I could also smell the air, the smell of the rain hitting the hot pavement. I stood for a moment enjoying the rain then came back inside and went back to bed in the cool house. I fell asleep right away.
When I was a kid, I never cooked anything. I wasn’t interested in the kitchen except to sit down to dinner. For lunch sometimes, I’d make a bologna sandwich, but I always cut the meat a bit lopsided, thin on one side and thick on the other. I’d add hot peppers to give the bologna a bit of a zing. It was always mustard on my bologna. Even in college, when I had an apartment, I didn’t do much cooking. I became quite adept at opening Dinty Moore’s beef stew. My roommate actually cooked meals for us with meat, potatoes and a vegetable. I was amazed.
I made sugar cookies for Christmas when I was in Ghana; they were traditional in my family, and I needed a connection to home my first Christmas away. I was hesitant as I had a total lack of baking skills, but I had nothing to lose so I gave those cookies a try. Despite my having to sift out the bugs and use a beer bottle as a rolling-pin, those cookies were perfect and they were delicious. They brought Christmas to me.
After that no recipe fazed me. When I got home, I was willing to try anything, even chicken Kiev. After all, I had made sugar cookies looking like bells and reindeer in a small oven in Ghana so I knew I could make anything.
Categories: Musings
Tags: baking, Chriostmas, Ghana, mouse, rain, recipes, sugar cookies, summer heat
Comments: 8 Comments
June 19, 2012
The weather is the same as it’s been. The paper calls today partly cloudy. I always think of that forecast as a half-full or half-empty sort of weather observation. Why can’t it be partly sunny? For tomorrow, the first day of summer, Mother Nature is doing herself proud. She’s bringing on the sun and the heat, maybe even into the 80’s. Finally I get to shed this sweatshirt!
I have the Weather Channel app on this computer. It is set to give me the weather in South Dennis and in Accra. If I were in Accra, I’d be writing about the weather being the same every day: highs in the low-80’s, lows in the mid-70’s and the possibility (60%) of thunder showers every day. It is, after all, the rainy season. I loved the rainy season and the fierce thunder storms which came after winds strong enough to blow furniture over and whip trees. Where I lived was savannah grassland. Most of the year it is brown and dead, but when the rains come, the grass is green and tall. Millet grows in all the fields, and the market stalls are filled with fresh produce. That is why I have chosen to go back to Ghana and Bolgatanga in August again this year. The rains will still come every day. Some will be drenching while others will be misty and cooling. We always went about our business in the rain. We never had umbrellas. I don’t even remember seeing any. We knew when the rain stopped the sun would return and dry us, but I remember well the feeling of being wet and cool while walking in the rain.
When I was a kid, nothing was better than a summer rain. We’d run and play and get soaked doing it. We’d kick water at each other from the rivers roaring through the gutters on the street. I remember my hair soaken wet and plastered to my head. I remember my arms stretched out to the sides as I stood in the rain, and I remember laughing from sheer joy.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Accra, Bolgatanga, Mother Nature, rain, rainy season, soaken wet, summer rains, weather, Weather Channel, Wind
Comments: 25 Comments
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