Lazy hazy days of summer

As we in the northeast U.S. swelter under an oppressive heat wave--almost a week of over 90 degree F temperature--I am so grateful for central air-conditioning.  Our house has a heat pump, which heats in cold weather and cools in hot weather.  So, the sweltering heat is bearable, because we are cool inside.

But it wasn't always so--and in many parts of the world it is not so.  Our daughter living in London knows that central air-conditioning is a rarity in homes.  Most of the time, the weather cooperates, but when it does heat up--well, obviously things get hot.

The advent of air-conditioning in the modern era occurred at the outset of the 20th century when Willis Carrier (yes, that's why there is a brand of air-conditioners named Carrier), who had recently graduated from Cornell University, set about to solve the problem for a printing company in Brooklyn, New York.  For several decades, air-conditioning was used in commercial settings, but not private homes.

Not doubt, many of you readers can recall a time without air-conditioning in your homes.  So, what did we do to stay cool?

Swimming--I have previously written about my memories of swimming in an old swimming hole.  Just as with little access to home air-conditioning, most people did not have access to private swimming pools.  So, off we went to municipal pools, or to swimming holes, or to creeks.  Nothing better on a steamy hot summer day than a swim in a bone-chilling creek.

Drinking Coca-cola--I spent one summer with my mother's sister, my aunt, and her family.  My cousin and I would walk a half a mile from the house to the corner grocery store in the little village where we lived.  Once inside, we would immediately head for the cooler for a bottled soda...or, I should say, pop.  Reaching around in the cooler, hands in the watery ice mix, selecting our choice, pulling it out, removing the cap on the bottle opener attached to the side of the cooler, paying for our prize, and then walking back home--ahhh!  That's the way to beat the summer time heat.

Sitting on the porch swing--wonderful old houses always had wide porches with overhanging roofs, and a swing hanging from the rafters.  Even on a hot day, you could always sit on the swing, gently rocking back and forth, creating your own breeze if there were no other breeze around.  For a time, porches (or verandas) went out of favor, but--thank goodness--they are back.  That's one feature I could wish our home had--a lovely porch.  With a swing, of course.

I am sure there were other ways we beat the heat.  Or, if we didn't, we just put up with it.  We sweated, we fanned, we rolled the windows down on our cars and let the hot wind evaporate our sweat.  We slept without any covers.  We managed.

Enough of this stroll down memory lane.  Frankly, as fond as these memories are, I think I'll stay inside on these lazy hazy days of summer....and enjoy our central air-conditioning.

Bite me!

Summer is not my favorite season--there, I've admitted it. Deep down, I am really a cold weather person. And this summer has been particularly tough to handle--excessive heat with many more days than usual over 90. On top of that, we have had an outbreak of biting insects in our part of the world.

Central PA is known for our infamous black flies--some people call them gnats, but they are really small black flies. They are ubiquitous, and they bite. For years, our state ran a black fly spraying control program, using BT (so no chemical toxins). But with funding cutbacks, gradually the spraying program has been scaled back and then eliminated. And now the gnats flourish. And bite. Specifically me. They. . .bite. . .me!

This summer, every time I go outdoors, I come back inside with at least 2 to 4 bites. These bites itch like crazy--I grit my teeth and steel myself to NOT scratch, at least for 30 minutes. The histamine reaction that kicks up sets the itch control central on hyper-drive for about that long. If I can resist, I avoid spreading around the insect's poison, and thereby limit the histamine swollen area.

Now, we are experiencing an upsurge of mosquitoes (oh, great!) and there are more reasons for me to get bit.

I cannot fathom it--I get bit, and my husband does not, usually. I do try to carry along a handy Off clip-on fan. It has a little switch, a battery and a fan that blows Off in a cone of protection around me. OK--not really a cone. But anything helps.

So, I will soldier on through this summer, sweating in the heat, and itching from several bites every day.

If any of you gentle readers has a near-foolproof method to keep from being gnat and mosquito-bitten, please do tell.

Summertime!

OK--the last final exam has been handed out, completed and collected. And the stack of papers on my desk has been graded. I even have the Excel spreadsheet all set up, ready to calculate on one click of my finger (oh, so much easier than the old days of adding machine, pencils and endless calculations late into the night!).

So, what's next?

~SUMMERTIME~

True, I am a tad early, as far as the weather is concerned. Our cool spring continues--laced with days of crazy rain--that replenishes our parched earth, which suffered from a dearth of snow this winter.

Summertime got me to thinking of summers when I was in college. We would empty out our dorm rooms, and head off to various locations. With my parents in Africa, I sought summer work where I was a live-in maid. That meant travelling to Canada, and saying goodbye to my college boyfriend for the summer. And who knew if we would still be a couple when we returned to college in the fall? The romance usually didn't last.

Perhaps that separation tinged with the possibility of a stalled romance helped inspire some of the summer songs of my youth. One such sobby song was Bryan Hyland's "Sealed with a Kiss." And, yes, I know that song really (make that REALLY) dates me. So be it.

"Sealed with a Kiss" is number 53 on Entertainment Weekly's assembled list of the 100 Greatest Summer Songs of All Time.


Herewith the top 25:

1 The Lovin' Spoonful ''Summer in the City'' Summer of '66
2 The Beach Boys ''California Girls'' Summer of '65
3 Alice Cooper ''School's Out'' Summer of '72
4 Martha and the Vandellas ''Heat Wave'' Summer of '63
5 The Drifters ''Under the Boardwalk'' Summer of '64
6 The Doors ''Light My Fire'' Summer of '67
7 Martha and the Vandellas ''Dancing in the Street'' Summer of '64
8 Madonna ''Borderline'' Summer of '84
9 Sly & the Family Stone ''Hot Fun in the Summertime'' Summer of '69
10 The Rolling Stones ''(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction'' Summer of '65
11 Eddie Cochran ''Summertime Blues'' Summer of '58
12 The Hues Corporation ''Rock the Boat'' Summer of '74
13 The Beach Boys ''I Get Around'' Summer of '64
14 Grand Master Flash & the Furious Five ''The Message'' Summer of '82
15 Mungo Jerry ''In the Summertime'' Summer of '70
16 Rod Stewart ''Maggie May'' Summer of '71
17 The Beatles ''A Hard Day's Night'' Summer of '64
18 The Surfaris ''Wipe Out'' Summer of '63
19 The Beach Boys ''Wouldn't It Be Nice'' Summer of '66
20 The Police ''Every Breath You Take'' Summer of '83
21 Raspberries ''Go All the Way'' Summer of '72
22 The Carpenters ''(They Long to Be) Close to You'' Summer of '70
23 Jefferson Airplane ''White Rabbit'' Summer of '67
24 Elton John and Kiki Dee ''Don't Go Breaking My Heart'' Summer of '76
25 Bob Dylan ''Like a Rolling Stone'' Summer of '65


To see the remaining 75, go here. You can also read the fun descriptions of these songs. Among my other favorites are numbers 5, 15, 35, and 47. And I can always listen to number 73--summertime or anytime.

Any favorites of yours in the list? Do tell.

The Old (New) Swimming Hole

Unlike some of the bloggers who I read, we do not live along side a stream or a river. So, our summer swimming pleasure comes through the very suburban site of a swimming pool.

I recall fondly swimming in a genuine swimming hole in my teen years. Many such swimming holes in this part of Pennsylvania were created when creeks were dammed. The dams served a purpose in their time--they powered mills. But now, they no longer do. So a bit at a time, the dams are being disassembled, as they block the healthy flow of water.

In place of a swimming hole, suburban backyards have been dotted with swimming pools. There are some parts of the country where you can see pool after pool after pool if you view neighborhoods from the air. The neighborhood we live in has some 40 homes. We moved here almost 30 years ago in the fall, and there were NO swimming pools here. The next spring, we had a swimming pool installed. It seemed like a luxury at the time. But over the years, it has provided much entertainment, first for our son, and his friends (one of whom showed up with an inflatable row boat!), then for our daughter, who held her high school graduation party around the pool.

The pool has been the site of other parties--one celebrating a good friend's 60th birthday, one celebrating my husband's 60th birthday, and one celebrating the anticipation of my father's 90th birthday.

With our children grown and gone, I have turned the pool into a sometime summer fun site for neighborhood children.

One thing the pool does require is MAINTENANCE. And, occasionally, parts need to be replaced. We noticed several summers ago that the liner of the pool was beginning to wear out. Normally, the liner should last about 15 years. The first liner lasted about 11, and was replaced. This one had lasted 17 years--so I guess the average turned out to be what it should--a liner SHOULD last 15 years.

So, it was time to get a new liner.

Herewith, the process.

First, you drain the pool--all the way to the bottom (and hope it doesn't rain--it did!).

Then the people from the pool company come and do the rest. The old liner is cut up, and taken out--I was not there to see (or photograph) that step.

The new liner is then placed in the pool, and a pump is attached to suck out the air, which causes the liner to adhere to the sides.

Then you make sure the water truck comes to fill the pool. Yes, you COULD do it with a garden hose but it . . .takes . . . a . . . long . . . time.

Then you put all the fixtures in place--ladders, diving board, and all the chemicals to balance Ph and keep the water clean.

Almost ready--make sure the warning signs are in place.

What is there left to do? Hmmm--hope for warmer weather (we have had a very cold spring) and on a sunny Saturday, invite the neighbor children over!

Lucy--you got some 'splaining to do!

OK--I knew there just might be a need to "tell the story behind the story."

# 89 (see Meme, too if the numbers mystify you .)

When my parents returned to their mission work in Africa, I was fifteen going on sixteen. I stayed with first my mother's sister, my Aunt Kay, and then after a year with my father's brother, Uncle Arthur. When summers came, I thought it necessary to find work. Nothing too unusual about that, except for me work meant going to Canada. My dad had a cousin there who lived in Ridgeway, Ontario, and did work in homes of wealthy Americans who had summer homes along Lake Erie.

The first summer I worked for the Rich family--as in Coffee Rich (and as in Rich Stadium in Buffalo, NY). The patriarch of the family had come up with a non-dairy creamer and whip topping (long before Cool Whip). Anyway, they had a summer home along Lake Erie where I, along with 2 other young women, worked. I was the cleaning "girl"; another young woman was the cook, and the third took care of the children of the daughter.

When the second summer rolled around, I had hoped to return to work for that family, but I was persona non grata, having been deemed too attractive and the cause of some of the young son's friends wanting to flirt too much. Actually, what I remember is one of those young men--while in a drunken fit--trying to break down the door to the room all of us slept in. But, as usual, blame the woman for being the lure! Anyway, I was not asked to return--maybe make that--asked NOT to return. The matriarch's behavior was so haughty toward the hired help that I vowed, were I ever to have enough money to hire people to help me, NEVER to treat help so shabbily. The only good thing to come out of the experience was I learned to make a good meatloaf--when the cook had off, I was always asked to "make meatloaf."

So, the second summer, I got a job, still on Lake Erie, but this time working for a single woman and her aging father. She was the head of the Buffalo Association for the Blind, and he was a long retired physician who had specialized in allergies. He had actually attended medical school for a time in Germany and had witnessed a duel. No, not fencing or any such--but an ACTUAL duel. He would regale me with tales of dueling in medical school. Maybe that inspired him to go into a specialty other than surgery.

It was here that I learned to make a perfect martini! Every day the Miss of the house would come home from a hard day's work, and want a martini. So, I made martinis for her and her father. Sweet people.

The father had the same lunch EVERY day--an omelet and toast. Each week his daughter would bring him a bag of books from the library--mostly mysteries. And he would sit in the front room, which faced Lake Erie, and read away.

While I was the only maid in the house, doing all the duties from cleaning to cooking to laundry to martini making, I did have lots of free time. So I would pad down the path to Lake Erie daily. Nearby were other summer homes and I became friends with several of the other girls working there.

One day, we were out swimming, and got a bit out of our standing depth. I was fine with that, but the girl with me suddenly realized she could no longer stand. And she panicked. I mean, PANICKED. She began grabbing at me, pulling me hard and under. I am not a trained lifeguard--and have never been a really good swimmer. But I had the presence of mind to shove her away. Then I swam a bit toward shore, reached out, grabbed and yanked her toward me. Then swam another bit, another grab and yank. I did that all the way, until she got her footing. Afterwards, she was so ashamed, that she simply wouldn't talk to me. She didn't thank me--no need, as far as I was concerned. But she was mortified, I suppose, for panicking.

So, that's the story. Wait, you say? What about the dog? Oh, yes, the dog.

A different day, and a different story. This dog was a lab owned by the son of my physician employer. The son's house was next door. As we went down to the lake each day, this dog and another dog, a lovely Irish setter, would trot along. There was a raft anchored about 100 feet from the shore. We would swim out to the raft, haul ourselves up on it and just soak up the warmth. The dogs would swim out, and then around the raft. One day, the lab just stayed there swimming. She didn't go back to shore, but insisted on "guarding" us--I guess that's what she was doing. She swam around and around and around. Suddenly, it was clear she was getting way too tired. She began going under the surface a bit, and coming up too too slowly. I jumped off the raft, and managed to grab her enough to get back to shore. I don't really remember exactly how I did it. Maybe she wouldn't have drowned, but she was so goofy, she just wouldn't give up on circling the raft until it was too late.

So, there you have it--I saved a person and a dog. End of story!

Next installment--# 97.

Summer Interrupted

I was all of 15 years old. Since my parents had returned to their missionary work in Africa while I remained in the U.S., living with relatives, I was visiting an uncle and aunt, on my mother's side of the family, who lived in Ohio.

It was a quintessential summer--sun filled days that leave your skin smelling fresh. My uncle was a pastor at a church in south-west Ohio, about 50 miles north of Cincinnati. I loved visiting them because my uncle and aunt had 4 daughters who were close to my age. Talk about a teenager's dream--being with 4 cousins in high summer. The dream went into overdrive when one of the members of my uncle's congregation asked if we wanted to help bale hay.

Well, sure--especially since there were several teenage boys involved. I can recall the smell of that newly mown hay--with all its tangy sweetness.

This summer reverie was interrupted when the telephone rang. News from central Pennsylvania where my father's parents were living. My paternal grandmother had died somewhat unexpectedly. She and my grandfather were visiting relatives in southern Ontario, when her heart--which had been very weak for many years--simply gave out.

At first, I thought it all an awful joke--but it was most certainly real. Another uncle, my father's brother, came to get me so we could return to central Pennsylvania for the funeral.

Years later, I caught a scent of fresh mown hay--and the recollection of my grandmother's death came flooding back. So, I wrote a poem, shared here with you.

Photo from http://www.americanafoundation.org/agnatresources.asp

Age Born

The smell of hay hurts
With its sweetsharp tang
Ohio evenings—
Riding high
Doing no work
But slyly flirting with
Smooth brown farm boys.

Sky turning on an amber cloud
Brings twilight
In that musty clapboard
Church balcony
We sit pondering
Fine details of morality
Long gone.

Ritual of school ended
Our lemonaded night
Uncurls to distant lights
Golden girls giggling
At reveries of youth—
Of him who gently glanced
Awkwardly away.

Slight steaming morning
With sticky sheet sloughed
In a cousin’s home awake
Quick clanging brings hard news
Your grandmother has died
Swift cleavage from a past
As brittle pain sets in—

by KGMom © written c. 1975

Farewell to Summer

Every year, Harrisburg ends the summer season with a festival along the Susquehanna River--the festival is called Kipona. The story goes that Kipona means "sparkling water" and was the name used by the Susquehannock Indians for the river. Not sure about that--but the name evokes a festive mood in all.

The festival draws people.

And some musicians.

And people, people, people.


The older crowd.

And the younger crowd.

Artisans--here operating a treadle jig-saw.

Artists--and art admirers.

Colorful stained glass.

Recycling old glass.

And recycling old silver!

Wooden spoons waving in the gentle breeze.

Meat roasting on a spit.

And served up ready to eat.

Everything you could possibly want to eat.

Some people bring their pets--this guy's snake was named Jawz.

His girlfriend told me his other snake was named Fluffy!

This little vole scuttled around, unbidden, and mostly unseen--hope the snake doesn't see him.

Signs everywhere. This sign struck me funny because McCormick Island has just been bought by Central Pennsylvania Conservancy (it is a rookery for egrets and other river birds)--BUT this weekend, there was a big unsanctioned party there that the police broke up.

I read this sign all the way through before I realized it was a joke.

And finally, what is a river festival without canoeing?

Farewell to summer.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day

William Shakespeare SONNET 18


Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:



Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:



Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;



And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:



But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I had fun interweaving this classic Shakespearean sonnet with scenes from a hammock, taken at our friends’ lakeside cottage. The final photo is NOT our friends’ house, but is a house across the lake from where they live. I liked the evening lighting falling on the house.

The photos were taken this past Saturday, which was a picture perfect day--blue skies, lovely clouds, good food, wonderful fellowship--if that doesn't define a summer's day, I don't know what does.

Fun Friday

In a previous post, I recalled summertime fun I had as a teen. Well, today I recreated the old swimming hole, only it is now a lovely pool and some neighborhood kids.

Every so often, in the summer, I invite neighbor kids to come by for a swim. We have always tried to be careful with our pool, keeping the gates locked at all times, using a thermal cover to keep the water out of view, and reminding kids "no swimming" unless they have been invited. Fortunately, we have had wonderful kids around us, and they are most cooperative.

In the pool today were two little brothers--Ty and Tanner; their sister Taylor with her friends Leah and Rachel, and another girl Gloria. I note that boys were rowdier (and younger) and the girls much more relational. The girls spent time trying to find out who has a crush on whom and then TELLING. The boys were content to splash, dive, horse-play and just have fun.

The old swimming hole may be updated, but the fun is old-fashioned!

Calm before the kids arrive!

Shark!

Girl talk!

Lessons learned today--Stay cool, enjoy these lazy days of summer.