Snapshots of summer

There is something magical about summer. It seems that there is a mystical rhythm to it that presents itself in the slight breeze, reminding me of those carefree days of childhood. I never desire to go back in time until these moments. But the gentle wind makes me miss the innocence of looking into the garden without knowing how much work they actually are.
 
Oh sure, I can recall the countless hours that Grandpa Teal would be out there with his hoe and spade, but it was such a romantic notion back then. Grandpa and the garden—they just went together. I had no idea of the actual work involved. I can still visualize him with his hoe in hand, sun hat on, hacking at the weeds. After a hard day’s work, beaming with pride he would lay his bounty on the kitchen counter (dirt and all) for Grandma Doris to work her magic. And she did work her magic. She could seemingly take any thing and within minutes lay a veritable feast in front of us.
As a child, I had the best view of Grandpa and his garden from an old tire swing he made out of re-purposed tires off some old rig. The tire is still there, shaded by the huge tree in which it has hung for years and years. I love that swing. I spent much of my childhood twisting in the shadows of that tree, daydreaming, processing, while allowing my thoughts go wild.
There was a song that came out a few years ago called “Billy the Kid,” brilliantly sung by Billy Dean. The lyrics remind me of my boys as they belt out the innocence of childhood.
Strapped on my holster low across my hips,
Two Colt .45’s with black plastic grips;
And I’d head west through our neighborhood,
And they’d say,
“Here comes young Billy and he’s up to no good.”
I rode a trail through the neighbor’s backyard,
Shootin’ the Bad Guys through my handlebars.
Known for my bravery both far and near,
Bein’ late for supper was my only fear.
My 12-year-old, who is the youngest of four boys in our family, is the quintessential “Billy the Kid.” He loves the freedom that comes with riding his bike to “worlds unknown” and finding new routes to old, familiar places. I love the sound of him yelling across the house, “Hey, Ma! I am going to ride my bike,” without a care in the world.
Yesterday I found myself in the back yard with laptop in hand and a cell phone attached to my ear. Then, for the briefest of moments, I closed my eyes and heard the rhythm. As I breathed it all in, I couldn’t help but be grateful for these little snapshots of summer.

Comments

 
By: suzy
On: 07/14/2009 18:53:25
As kids , my sister and I would spend a week at my Grandpa's farm. during the summer. When Mama And Daddy would come to pick us up (sooner than we wanted) my Mama said we were barely recogizable. We would eat watermelon fresh out of the field and then roll down a sandy hill behind the shelter belt. Well, You can imagine what we looked like.My Grandma would wash us off the best she could for the ride home. My grandparents didn't have indoor plumbing until the last place they lived before they passed away, so water had to be pumped and heated to bathe.We thought it was a blast! These kind of memories are so clear in my mind (but I probably couldn't tell you what happened yesterday)That just goes to show you what's really importent in life.I hope my grandkids remember the great times they've spent with us at our country home this summer,I know I will. Love to all, Suzy (Texas)
 
By: Charlotte
On: 07/15/2009 07:15:24
Rene,

Again, you have captured the essence of something that we all strive to hold onto! I was just thinking yesterday as I was watching my daughter at her horse riding lessons how there is such a special feel to summer. Maybe it is the warmth of the sun, the feel of the earth when you can just lay in the grass, or the smell of the fruits when the canning is started. Who knows, but I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Thanks again for the wonderful entry! You make my heart sing every time I read your entries. Enjoy the rest of the summer.....it flies by far too quickly!
 
By: Gary
On: 07/16/2009 12:23:42
I LOVE your walks down Memory Lane Rene'...!
Your photo of the wheelbarrow remind me of our tool shed, and I sometimes picture it in my mind... scythe hanging on the wall... old push mower... stuff I had no clue about all around, and the smells... that place had a uniqueness about it... cut grass waifting in the air and the scent of oil from the squeeze can... and earth... the scent of the red dirt floor...
I understand your Boy's JOY with his bike... I rode every Country road for miles around... pavement, gravel, dirt. My Mom and Pop were wise, and when the Teacher sent a note Home that I hadn't learned my multiplication tables, they told me that when I could sit at the Supper table and recite them, they would buy me the 3 speed English Bicycle I had wanted for so long. I was riding that bike the next week... *WINK*...
Snapshots in our Memories indeed.
GodSpeed to Y'all...!
Gary
in Tampa

Leave a comment

Please complete the form below to submit a comment on this article. A valid email address is required to submit a comment though it will not be displayed on the site.

Alexandra Wilson out and about

Alexandra Wilson,
Our New Rural Farmgirl,
is a budding rural farmgirl living in Palmer, the agricultural seat of Alaska. Alex is a graduate student at Alaska Pacific University pursuing an M.S. in Outdoor and Environmental Education. She lives and works on the university’s 700 acre environmental education center, Spring Creek Farm. When Alex has time outside of school, she loves to rock climb, repurpose found objects, cross-country ski on the hay fields, travel, practice yoga, and cook with new-fangled ingredients.

Alex grew up near the Twin Cities and went to college in Madison, Wisconsin—both places where perfectly painted barns and rolling green farmland are just a short drive away. After college, she taught at a rural middle school in South Korea where she biked past verdant rice paddies and old women selling home-grown produce from sidewalk stoops. She was introduced to MaryJanesFarm after returning, and found in it what she’d been searching for—a group of incredible women living their lives in ways that benefit their families, their communities, and the greater environment. What an amazing group of farmgirls to be a part of!

Column contents copyright © Alexandra Wilson. All rights reserved.

Little Farmer Girl

Farmgirl
is a condition
of the heart.

Libbie Zenger
Previous Rural Farmgirl,
June 2010 – Jan 2012
Libbie’s a small town farmgirl who lives in the high-desert Sevier Valley of Central Utah on a 140-year-old farm with her husband and two darling little farmboys — as well as 30 ewes; 60 new little lambs; a handful of rams; a lovely milk cow, Evelynn; an old horse, Doc; two dogs; a bunch o’ chickens; and two kitties.

René Groom
Previous Rural Farmgirl,
April 2009 – May 2010
René lives in Washington state’s wine country. She grew up in the dry-land wheat fields of E. Washington, where learning to drive the family truck and tractors, and “snipe hunting,” were rites of passage. She has dirt under her nails and in her veins. In true farmgirl fashion, there is no place on Earth she would rather be than on the farm.