Some mornings just lend themselves to good humor. This Morning is one of them. It started raining yesterday then it stopped then it started again. This intermittent rain continued most of the night, and I fell asleep to the sound of a gentle rain falling on the little eave overhang outside my bedroom window. This morning, when I opened the front door, I could see fog hovering around tree trunks and low branches. Everything is damp. The humidity is so thick you can almost see it in the air. The leaves and branches are still, almost as if weighted by the dampness. I love mornings like this.

Yesterday my friend Bill wrote that in the dampness of his daily walk that morning he could feel and smell Ghana. I knew exactly what he meant. I loved rainy season mornings in Bolga when I’d wake to a Cloudy Sky, a dark cloudy sky, and chilly air, chilly at least by comparison to the often three digit daily temperatures. I’d sit on the small porch outside my front door and have my morning coffee and relish the warmth of the cup in my hands. I loved those mornings.

This morning I’ve taken my time. I read the papers from front to back. I did the crossword in the Globe and solved the cryptogram in the Cape Times. I drank a cup of coffee with each paper. The best item, the one which made me smile, came from Deveselu, Romania. Ion Aliman was re-elected mayor by a landslide in his village, even though he died two weeks ago from Covid-19 complications, saying he had done a good job and deserved his posthumous victory. Good for them!

I can’t explain my good humor. Some days are good days when I am happy for the rain or the sun (now I’m sounding like I’m intoning some Girl Scout song at the end of our troop meeting), but I’m thinking it was the morning coupled with Bill’s e-mail. I’m happy for today for no reason, the best kind of happy.