Summer Memories: Going to Grandma's

I don't know what exactly it is about this day, but it has me reminiscing and thinking about summer days from my childhood when we would go to Grandma's.  The cloudless blue sky, the emerald green of the grass, the breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees... even just the clean, fresh smell of the outdoors.  It's carrying me back to perfect summer days at my grandma's.

We spent a lot of time at my grandma's when I was a kid.  During the summer, at least once a week, we'd spend a day up there at her house, on the outskirts of Shawville.  Mom would be going up to cut her grass or do her hair or help her with flower beds, and she'd tow us along with her.  When I was little, it was always a joy to go to Grandma's.

Now, I know what you're thinking:  This sounds like a lot of outdoor stuff, and Jill, you're not an outdoor girl.  Very true.  And yet, while I avoided any of the hard labour in the garden or flower beds, I love the memories of wandering around Grandma's property, or going for a walk down the road.  Sitting in lawn chairs outside while she admired her flowers and I pretended to care.  Swinging on the old wooden swing that hung from ropes in one of her trees.  Exploring the old sheds and garage.

On really special occasions, there'd be a trip next door to John's to visit the chickens.  It was always a delight when she'd take us over there, and he'd give us a tour of all his chicken coops outside.  In my mind, going to John's was like walking into a jungle. Elaborate flower beds and trees every where, little paths to walk through, and then emerging in the back yard to find chickens everywhere.  I don't even like birds, and yet I fondly recall these trips to visit the chickens.

Now, don't get me wrong, if I could hang out inside the house, I would, as much as possible.  Couch potato all my life.  But even inside, watching Mr. Dressup or Sesame Street, it still felt like summer.  Windows open, breeze blowing through, wind chimes tinkling, the front screen door slamming as others came in and out.  The sound of the lawn mower.  I mean, how silly is that?  I hear lawn mowers all the time, yet today, it makes me think of Grandma's...

And what would my memories be if they didn't somehow involve food?  This time of year, it would be a light lunch of  toasted tomato sandwiches or even just little bits of this and that - some cold meat, some crackers and cheese, a dish of pickles, carrot and celery sticks, the ever-present butter dish.  All enjoyed out on the summer porch.  If there's one part I miss most about Grandma's, it's that summer porch.  It was just a small little room off her kitchen, closed in yet so bright with big windows and a screen door.  Sitting out there almost felt like sitting outside.  Just outside the big window hung her hummingbird feeder, filled with that bright red liquid, and she'd hush us if one drew near.

After dessert was served - and there was always dessert, whether it just be a few cookies from the freezer or a lavish platter of freshly baked tea biscuits topped with homemade jam and whipping cream - she would collect the tea bags and get us to go out and sprinkle the insides of them in her flower beds.  I have no idea why.  I have never heard of anyone else sprinkling damp tea leaves in their flower beds.  But it was a job I simply loved, tearing open those soggy bags and dumping the insides of them in the dark soil.

A summer day at Grandma's was never complete without a stroll through her garden.  As I mentioned, I avoided the hard labour like the plague, but never minded the walk-through when all the work was done. Grandma's garden was always immaculate, carefully weeded, tended in perfect rows.  When the peas were ready, she'd let us pluck a few pods and split them open, eating the raw peas fresh.  Only kind of peas I ever enjoyed.  We now joke about those garden tours as a delay tactic, a way of her getting us to stay longer.  "We have to be going now."  "Oh but wait!  You haven't seen the garden yet!"  I don't think anyone minded having to stay a little longer, though.

When it was time to go, she'd stand on her front step and say good-bye, waving one finger at us, up and down, a bright cheery smile on her face. 

I don't know why those visits to Grandma's are so forefront in my thoughts today.  I'm fortunate to work on a farm, in an office with big windows that allow me to gaze out at beautiful scenery all around me.  Today, that blue sky, bright green of the foliage, breeze swaying the trees, are all bringing me back to that childhood haven.

I know it's a place I can't go back to, and even if I did, it wouldn't be the same.  But just for a day, how I wish we could.

I'd go back in a heartbeat.