Sweet Summers
June 07, 2010With days growing longer—and hotter—and the kids about to be out of school, I find myself remembering sweet summers of my childhood, when I ran wild and free at my grandma’s house in Cottonwood, California.
My mom and I spent many vacations at Grandma’s together, but from the time I was about 8, during summer vacation I spent at least two weeks, sometimes a month or more, at her house on my own, without my mom. (Strangely, even when Grandpa was living, I always thought of the Cottonwood place as “Grandma’s house.”)
To get to Grandma’s house, we drove for at least eight hours, winding through flat farmland from our home in Southern California, to Cottonwood, population 3000-plus. I opened my car window to smell the alfalfa fields and watched the road signs eagerly, counting down the miles until our exit. Once I saw the Bowman Road sign, I could barely contain my anticipation. It would only be a matter of minutes until we reached Grandma’s house.
The tires crunched on the gravel driveway where we parked to unload. I would jump out of the car eagerly, running through a gate in the white picket fence. The little white house, trimmed in barn red, nestled there, like a hen sitting on her nest.
At home, I had only a tiny yard to play in. At Grandma’s house, I had 22 acres in which to roam freely. For a city girl, the cows, chickens, dog and cats held deep fascination. Accompanied by my grandparents’ dog, Taffy, I explored nearly every inch of the property, from the straw-yellow hills behind the house to the sweet-smelling cow barn, to the irrigated cow pasture where I tried to make friends with my grandparents’ beef cattle. Though I could never convince Grandma to get me a horse, I pretended to ride one—or pretended to be one—while exploring.
When I tired of galloping through the pasture, I swam in the irrigation ditch that ran behind Grandma’s house like my own personal river, caught frogs for frog swimming races, or stretched out on a beach towel on the wooden bridge that crossed the ditch, baking myself in the summer sun. Or I would read in a lawn chair under the huge oak in the front yard, listening to the soothing sound of chickens softly clucking while they searched a flower bed for tasty bugs. Occasionally, the rooster’s crow broke the quiet of the afternoon.
Grandma was a great cook and I ate slabs of her homemade bread covered in fresh butter or homemade jam all day long. I reveled in peaches and watermelon purchased from local produce stands, or plums picked right off the tree. For a special treat, sometimes Grandma would make boysenberry cobbler, the purple berries oozing juices through the crumbly top crust.
Grandma’s mother, Great Gram, lived across the street in a tiny, pink house and many evenings I’d go play Rummy with her. (One of my first lessons in sportsmanship came at the card table: You can’t play cards with the grown ups if you cry when you lose.) I loved to play cards with her, but I admit to an ulterior motive as well. She made the best milkshakes I’ve ever had. She’d pour canned Hershey’s syrup over several scoops of chocolate chip ice cream and icy milk, then mush up the whole concoction with an old-fashioned egg beater. It was so thick, I had to eat it with a spoon.
My mom and step dad live in the house with the red trim now. Sadly, we don’t get to visit very often, since we live 2500 miles away. But when we do make the trip to Cottonwood, I’m reminded that I was once a girl with no cares, running wild through a cow pasture and slurping up milkshakes without a thought of their calorie count.
14 comments
What beautiful memories you've shared! I too spent time with my grandparents during the summer when they moved to North Georgia. It was always an adventure or so it seemed.
ReplyDeleteOh, to be that care free again........
My grandparents' house was my "happiest place on earth," with apologies to Walt Disney. It's hard to imagine being that free now.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful reminiscence, Kathy! I love that sometimes you daydreamed yourself as having a horse -- and sometimes you became the horse. ;)
ReplyDeleteIt is hard to imagine that kind of lifestyle, now that we've got this one with its responsibilities. I used to be like that, too, almost every weekend growing up spent at my grandparents' farm in Northwest Georgia. Now when I look back at it, I wonder, do kids even do that kind of thing nowadays? Roam through the woods unsupervised, play with frogs and snakes and spiders, swing from rope swings, eat directly from the fields, climb trees, go swimming in the creek, read outside?
God, I hope so.
I hope so, too, but I think it's the rare child who has access to things like that. My own son loves to do those things (or he did before he became a teenager), but he hasn't had that many opportunities. He does love swimming in the irrigation ditch when we go visit my mom!
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful reflection! I can just picture you as a young girl running all over this wonderful piece of property. You have a great memory for details - it makes your story a delight to follow. Seems like there are some scenes that would make some perfect watercolor sketches.... ;-)
ReplyDeleteSigh. Sounds blissful. Aren't memories wonderful? Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteClaire--Actually, I've already done a watercolor of the old barn (it's the red structure in the background of the first picture). I've also got some photos of my mom's peonies that would make lovely watercolors.
ReplyDeleteTeresa--You're welcome. My summers were blissful--the only time in my life where I was truly free to do what I liked. Sigh...
ReplyDeleteOh what a lovely, lovely childhood! I was also blessed with a grandmother who lived in the country, and my favorite childhood memories are also the summers we would spend at her house. Compared to the fenced in suburbs, the wild and messy farm was heaven! I am always trying to find that carefree, little girl feeling I once had...I miss my grandmother every single day.
ReplyDeleteCountry grandmas are the best! I feel so lucky to have had my summers at her house, and it's nice to hear from so many others who had that experience, too.
ReplyDeleteSuch wonderful memories you have Kathy - thanks for sharing them.
ReplyDeleteWhat wonderful childhood summers you've had, Kathy! I can only imagine you draw upon these experiences when writing and they serve to enhance it. Oh, to go back in time to childhood and the simpler life....
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteThis is beautifully written, poetic and lovely. By the way, thanks for the anniversary card.
Sarah
Cheryl--It was my pleasure to share!
ReplyDeleteKrista--Those were some of the happiest times in my life...I would not be who I am today without them.
Sarah--thank you--and you're welcome!!