July

In July we could have one of those rare, lovely days. They could be so beautiful, like a taste and smell of all that is good. The front lawns would be full of daisies and what wonderful, smart, little flowers they are. Not only could I make daisy chains with them, but they were the best light meters in England. In full sunshine they open wide and as a summer day turns cloudy and dark, the petals closed down. The roses and honeysuckle in Grandma’s garden, the peas, beans and strawberries in Grandpa’s garden would all be beautiful. I was allowed to dig alongside Grandpa, and usually my spot was underneath the gooseberry bushes. Some children thought that babies came from under the gooseberry bushes. I didn’t..

Early one July morning, milking and breakfast finished, my young Uncle headed for the cupboard in the brew house and reached for his fishing rod. With a nod of his head he signalled me to follow him. Like a puppy I ran behind him. He knew the fishing spots, and we headed up to the pond in the top field. Once there, we gained a vantage point along a slippery branch of a tree. This branch was over the deepest part of the pond. Uncle cautioned me to keep quiet as he set his float to the correct depth. Silence did not reign for long. I saw the float bob up and down a couple of times before it ran away and was drawn under. I shouted, “A bite, a bite” and Uncle gave me an enthusiastic push. I went headlong into the pond. The pond was by no means pure spring water. I stirred up a lot of muddy water and Uncle John knew I couldn’t swim. He came in after me. We both swallowed a lot of that dirty pond water, me a great deal more than Uncle. I was gasping and crying for him to help me. Finally we stood on the bank, a sad looking pair and we dripped our way back to the house. The fishing pole was lost. How were we going to explain our saturated state to Grandma? She took one look at us and declared we looked like drowned rats. We must have been a sight, for then she seemed to see the funny side. She lashed at us with our wet socks and then she laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. I was forced into the bath upstairs and Uncle into the zinc tub in the brew house. We were somewhat in disgrace, but after the tale had been told and retold at lunch, everyone treated us as heroes.

Sweet summer days passed in happy succession.