A holiday, at last!
I had been waiting for years for this weekend. And it was all I hoped for.
Memories of my childhood flooded into my mind as we drove into the little village.
As a child, we would spend two weeks each summer at the cottage my grandfather built when I was a baby. It was about three miles out of the village. Though there was little to do there, and the “beach” was nothing but rocks with icy water in the bay, I always loved it there. As children, we would venture into the water for short periods. We always wore shoes as the rocks are very slippery with moss and crayfish lived there, too. We often collected them for the neighbor who fished with them.
The above photo is a view from the marina in the village. About the middle of the cliff is where the lion’s head is supposed to be seen. I must admit, I cannot find it in this photo any more than I could just looking at the cliff. The binoculars on the observation deck did not help, either. If you can find it, please leave a comment and let me know. This view we could see from across the bay at the cottage.
I always had to take care not to get into the poison ivy which seemed to thrive there. Fortunately I learned at an early age to recognize the shiny triple-leaf structure and stayed clear of it.
The sound of the seagulls, though harsh to many, has always been welcome to my ears as a reminder of the times spent along that shore. To me, it is a comforting sound. I remember, after breakfast, lunch and dinner, we would put all the scraps on a plate, take it down by the water and scrape it off onto the rocks. First one gull would come, then another and another. Eventually, a whole flock noisily hovered until we moved away. The food disappeared quickly.
My favorite place to sit was down the shore from the cottage, at the point. You can see, just right of the center of the above photo, some very large rocks. The cottage was just beyond the left side of the picture. I would walk down the rocks until I reached the point, then would sit and listen to the water sloshing over the rocks and watch the sunlight dance on the surface of the bay. Whippoorwill Bay, it is called–part of Isthmus Bay. Though I never saw one, you could sometimes hear the whippoorwills at night. At dusk, we would sometimes see a loon skimming the surface of the water. All memories I cherish.
My curiosity tempted me to climb over those huge boulders, pieces fallen off the cliff many years before, just to see what was on the other side. But I knew it would be dangerous and never got far. Because I could not swim, I never attempted to go around, through the water. So that curiosity was never satisfied.
Every time we arrived at the top of this hill and I could see the bay, I knew we were getting close to the cottage. That sight always thrilled me, and still did this time. But today, buildings, huge homes, occupy space that back then was empty except for a few cottages and homes that were nothing like the size of some of the new ones. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and had a hard time recognizing where I was. Even the narrow dirt lane–I could not call it a road–that led to the cottage, is now paved.
I will add more photos in my next post and tell you more about my holiday. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one and will come back again for the next installment. Have a wonderful week. And please, do leave a comment.
Since a few of my readers liked to ‘peek’ when they were children (and maybe they still do), I thought I would post a short peek once again into my childhood.
I follow a page on FaceBook and the question was asked about what we remember most about Kindergarten.
My answer was “playing in the rhythm band”. Terry replied that she would have liked to see my play. Well, as that is entirely out of the question, I thought I could at least post a picture of that little band of five-year-old boys and girls with our sticks, tambourines and triangles and drum.
The quality isn’t so good, but I had to take a picture from a photo and that doesn’t always come out well. I’m sorry I can’t provide you with sound to go along with it. Perhaps, if you have a vivid imagination, you might just catch a little tune. I’m afraid I don’t even remember what music we played to.
I hope you have enjoyed this little reminiscence. Please leave a comment below, and if you do not already follow my blog, feel free to sign up to have notifications come via e-mail.
Here we are at my 3rd ‘peeking’ experience.
I’m just wondering if this tendency for peeking has anything to do with my mother playing peek-a-boo with me when I was a baby. Hmm.
This time I was a little older and we had moved to another house. No more holes in the floor. No more second floor, in fact.
I would have been 9 or 10. Bedtime was 8:00, and I had been there for awhile. My bedroom was off the living room and, because of shortage of space, the regular doors had been removed from both bedrooms and replaced with folding doors.
One night there was a kids’ movie on TV. But it didn’t start until after my bedtime. Why do they do that, anyway? I did so want to see that movie. Funny thing, my father was never one to watch movies, but he did turn the dial to this one. (That was long before remote controls. You actually had to get up out of your chair and turn a dial.)
The movie was Alice in Wonderland. The year, 1955. My peeking experience was expanding. I had cracked open the folding door just far enough so I could see and, hopefully, not be seen. I got away with it for awhile, but I was finally caught peeking. I cannot remember if I was allowed to come out and watch the rest of the movie after I was caught, but I think perhaps I was.
What I do remember is my mother later making fun of me to some of her friends–in front of me. I was so embarrassed about my peeking. I never tried that experiment again.
Click here to hear a song from the movie.
I did do a little peeking after that, and I felt so bad. I didn’t intend to see my Christmas present on the shelf in my mother’s closet. I was looking for something else. I never did tell her that I had seen it.
If you have never read Alice in Wonderland, you can read it free. For those of you familiar with the book and/or the movie (whichever version), I hope you enjoyed the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum song in the video. If you would like to watch the 1983 Broadway retelling of the 1932 version, check it out here.
Thank you so much for stopping by. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a comment. Perhaps you could tell me about your memories of Alice in Wonderland.
Have a super day.
Now you know the story of how I started peeking.
Well, that wasn’t the only time I did a little peeking.
Probably around 4 years old. It was New Year’s Eve. The neighbors, at least some of them, usually came to our house for a party. Not a rowdy party, mind you. Most of the neighbors were older people. My dad was by then nearing his mid-forties, my mother just past the middle thirties.
Of course, I was too young to stay up for the party. But that night I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to be a part of the fun. So I took to peeking again. This time the hole was much larger. This was where a stovepipe used to be to help heat the second floor of our house. I guess that was when we used the wood stove in the kitchen. By then we heated with an acme stove in the living room. But there was that hole, just made for peeking, one that I could actually see through.
Whenever my mother came into the kitchen, just below my peeking place, I would whisper, “Mommy!” Naturally she couldn’t hear me. But I was afraid to speak any louder. I have no idea why. I just kept peeking down that hole and hoping.
Finally, well past midnight, everyone had gone home. It was then that my mother discovered my peeking. It was then, too, that I discovered that she would have let me come down, at least for awhile, had she known I was there. Too late! The party was over. Again my peeking had done me no good. The knothole was full of darkness; the stovepipe hole was full of light. But my peeking was a failure in both cases. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned here? 🙂
Please stay tuned for my next adventure in peeking. I was a little older then, but probably not much wiser. Watch for “Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years – Part 3”
I hope you have enjoyed my musings. I do appreciate your visit and I hope you will leave a comment below. Do drop by again. And if you have a few minutes, please visit my other site. Have a super week.
Well, now that you have read (at least, I hope you have) the “About Me” section, I thought I would do a series of posts to relate some of my memories from my past. They may entertain you a little, and I hope some of them will bring you a smile.
Peeking into my early life.
This is going to take some serious remembering.
So, where do I start? I grew up–until I was half-way between 7 and 8 years old–on Victoria Street in Brantford Ontario.This is where I got my start peeking into my past.
Peeking. Yes, it all started when I dropped one of my mother’s earrings. One of those screw-on earrings from sixty or more years ago. I didn’t just drop it anywhere. It went straight through a small hole in the floor of the upstairs bedroom.
That room always fascinated me. There was a small closet where my mother stored a pool table that belonged to my uncle. There were other things in what was really more of a cubbyhole than a closet. I don’t remember the specifics now, except for some part rolls of old wallpaper, but I loved it when my mother opened that door.
Well, the peeking, as I already said, started in this room. After I dropped that earring down the hole, I was drawn back time and time again to look into the blackness of that hole. Of course, you cannot possible see through a little knothole into the spaces between floors, but as a small child I didn’t reason that way. I wanted to find the earring.
I suppose I felt guilty. It’s not that it was an expensive piece of jewellery, or that my mother couldn’t get along without it. Actually she was allergic to metal and seldom wore jewellery of any kind other than her engagement and wedding rings and the occasional necklace if it didn’t have a metal hook.
So I peeked. And I peeked. Eventually we moved to another house, but the earring was not forgotten. For many years I kept the other half of the pair. In later years I put it on a chain and wore it as a necklace.
I had hoped to take a picture of it, but now it seems to have vanished and I have no recollection of disposing of it. So now the mate to the lost earring is lost also. I will always wonder about its fate. Maybe that’s a fitting end for that pair of amber teardrop earrings.
I hope you enjoyed my little story. I’m so glad you dropped by. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a comment in the box below. Thank you. Please come back again to see what’s new on my newest web site and blog.