We are well into spring. I’m being definitive. The weather is finally consistently warm. Today will reach 70˚. I have opened windows on both floors. It is time to blow away the dust. It is time to embrace the warmth of spring, to let the fresh air into the house. I’m thinking flower shopping this week. A few warm days does that to me, has me dreaming.

I have given up on deck lights. The newest set is dead. It lasted a couple of weeks. I haven’t done the autopsy yet, but I’m guessing the wire has been bitten in half somewhere along the strand. Those lights have been replaced so many times I’ve lost count. I do have one more set, but I’ll hold on a bit longer. The only complication is Henry won’t go out the dog door at night without lights. Brave boy!

When I lived in Ghana, I ate just about the same thing every day. In the morning it was eggs over easy and toast, sugar bread toast slathered in margarine. Usually I had a couple of cups of coffee then another cup or two between classes. Lunch was fresh fruit, the usual fruits like oranges, pineapples, bananas, pawpaw and mango. Dinner was beef more often than chicken. I bought the beef already cut. The chickens were still alive. The meat market where I bought my beef was gross, but I remember that mostly in hindsight. Most things went unnoticed. It was just life in Ghana.

Each time I’ve gone to Ghana, my joy at being back overwhelms me. I love the sounds of the different languages. The air is redolent and filled with the smell of thick greenery and of charcoal burning. Roasting plantain can be bought along the roadside. The oranges are sweet. I roam the markets, eat street food, bargain for taxi rides and enjoy jollof rice almost every dinner. Everything is familiar. I had preserved well my memories. Just before I left Ghana and Peace Corps, I knew I needed to remember everything. I wanted the colors, the tastes and the sounds to be a part of me always. I kept the Ghanaians close too my heart for all those years away. I want one more trip.