I almost felt like a 15 year old girl again, gazing at clouds. And it got me to thinking about summertime. I can recall two idyllic summers when I lived with my uncle and aunt near the village of Grantham, PA. Too young to work (by the standards then), I had to find things to fill my summers. And I filled them very well, thank you.
What did we do? Well, we could walk to the little IGA grocer in the middle of the village. By today’s standards, this grocery would be a convenience store, but then it served to provide all the food goods we might need. And it had a soda cooler right inside the door. We would pad down the hill to the IGA, go inside in the relative cool, fish around for the right soda, then sucking our bottles, walk back home.
Or we would go to the local swimming holes. Do they even have swimming holes anymore? The one near Grantham was called the Riffles, and to get there you had to walk along the railroad tracks. The swimming hole was formed by an abandoned dam, which had since mostly fallen down, but the remnants of a deep water reservoir remained. There was a nearby tree with the proverbial swing on which braver souls than I could swing far out over the swimming hole then drop in. We could sit on the remnants of the dam, sunning, talking, (if old enough) with a boy.
Or we could go picking strawberries. My step-mom had gone picking strawberries this morning at a pay-to-pick place. I recall there being such places close enough to Grantham that we could go and pick. Maybe we were asked to do so by the grown-ups who wanted strawberries for making jam, or maybe we just went on our own. I don’t remember, but I recall going to pick them.
Enough of my brief walk down memory lane. How did you spend your childhood summers?