What I Did On My Summer Holidays ....

Some things just stay with a person for life. 

I was the nerdy kid who liked school.  I liked learning.  I liked books.  I don't recall having any problem with lunchbox meals.  And, since we only lived two miles from town, the bus ride was never much of a sacrifice of precious time either.

By this time of the year, while other students were dreading the end of August, I was merrily writing my name on all my new school supplies, sniffing the freshness of the unblemished notebooks, and wondering which desk I would be given for the coming year.  On the Nerd-O-Nomiter I think this puts me at about a 9.6 out of 10.

Not that I wasn't also plagued with back-to-school angst; I had plenty of that too.  We were a big family with a smaller income - other kids would have whole new wardrobes to show off whereas I would just have one or two new things.  And fear of the unknown played a role in my anxiety - a new locker code to remember, new teachers to meet, and wishing that I could just stay with arithmetic because the word 'algebra' sounded terrifying.  Above all this, though, was my concern over what I would have to report in one of the first assignments we would be given ... an essay on what we had done during our summer holidays.

I realize now that this was merely the simplest way to gauge the student's writing/expression skills while learning a little bit about them, but from my perspective I felt more like a reporter - more often than not a reporter without a story to tell.  Other kids went places and did things I could only dream of (the year of Canada's Centennial was especially painful for me - how could I compete with a trip to Montreal?)  My poor, pathetic, puny essay would be about hiking out to the birch tree slough, riding my bike to my uncle's house, finding kittens in the loft, putting pennies on the railroad tracks to get squished, picking wild strawberries, sleepovers at both Grandmas' houses and climbing sweet-smelling bale stacks.  It was hardly worth putting down on paper.  All the teacher was going to know about me was that my life was so boring!

This self assessment of how I spend my summers has followed me through life, though.  This time of the year there is a subtle shift in the atmosphere that tells us summer is done.  The grass is till green, the garden is producing like mad, the pool and the ice cream place are still open, but with the crickets chirping in the ditches and the hummingbirds feeding madly before they leave for Mexico summer's wain quietly seeps into our very bones.  In the midst of harvesting crops and making pickles my mind turns to what my essay would say about this summer should someone ask me to write one.

2017's essay would be a doozy.

For starters I'm on the committee that planned and presented our community's Canada 150 celebration this July 1st.  From the pancake breakfast to the pig roast to the fireworks; it takes months of planning to make one day a success.  It still makes me tired (and proud) to think about what we accomplished.

From there I had a couple weeks to catch up on my yard and garden work before my next summer project landed on my doorstep - literally.  Two little grandsons came to stay with us while their parents got settled in their new house.  In the past month we have squeezed in numerous dinosaur hunts, pea picking and shelling lessons, wild flower bouquet quests, getting the quad stuck in the mud with grandpa, water fights with their cousins, and the art of snitching new potatoes without disturbing the plant.  Add to that a family picnic/train ride/museum day, a camping sleepover at their cousins' place, and topping it all off with a family reunion before their parents took them home and it's safe to say at 61 years old I have just had the busiest summer of my life.

2017 isn't over yet - we still have another summer to aim for.  Plans are now in the works for us to be in Australia to visit another set of grandchildren on their summer holidays.  Two essays in six months!  The nerd in me rejoices!