Unlike many people,summer is not my favorite time of year.I much oerfered the cooler weather of spring and fall to the heat of mid-summer,though I always did like getting the break from school.
We spent summers at a cottage on the Northumberland Strait in Nova Scotia.Actually,just before we left,my mother would make strawberry jam from berries we picked,and that was a wonderful time.Summer really was a sucession of berries.First strawberries,then later raspberries from a thorn patch just a short walk from our cottage,then,in mid August,blueberries,from the fields around Springhill.Blueberry pie,with a cold,nearly frozen glass of milk might well have been my favorite thing about summer.
Summer really began with a trip to the town of Pugwash for Canada Day,where they had a gathering of the clans.There were dancers and bagpipes,which my father would never miss.I perfered to sneak away and go down to the harbour and watch the freighters being loaded with logs,or salt from the nearby mine.
Summer always ended with a corn boil,usually on the week end before Labour Day.Sometimes someone would bring a fiddle,and we would listen to the music and eat,marshmallows,hot dogs and,of course,corn on the cob.
In between the beginning of summer and the end,there were endless hours of swimming,and we usually endured at least one hurricane during which everyone huddled inside and we would light the wood stove and make lot of popcorn.
In mid August,there were meteor showers and usually I would lay down on the front seat of the car and watch as the skies were filled with luminous streaks.I would tune into radio stations from far away places too.Stations we could never get during the day.I loved this time and usually drifted off to sleep thinking big thoughts about the universe.By dawn I was usually awakened by the sounds of raccoons or porcupines forageing in our yard.I think those were,and still are my favorite days of summer.
By the time September came I was ready for school,and,regardless of what I told anyone at the time,I was looking forward to going back,and to the turning of the leaves and the coming of cooler,frosty mornings.
We spent summers at a cottage on the Northumberland Strait in Nova Scotia.Actually,just before we left,my mother would make strawberry jam from berries we picked,and that was a wonderful time.Summer really was a sucession of berries.First strawberries,then later raspberries from a thorn patch just a short walk from our cottage,then,in mid August,blueberries,from the fields around Springhill.Blueberry pie,with a cold,nearly frozen glass of milk might well have been my favorite thing about summer.
Summer really began with a trip to the town of Pugwash for Canada Day,where they had a gathering of the clans.There were dancers and bagpipes,which my father would never miss.I perfered to sneak away and go down to the harbour and watch the freighters being loaded with logs,or salt from the nearby mine.
Summer always ended with a corn boil,usually on the week end before Labour Day.Sometimes someone would bring a fiddle,and we would listen to the music and eat,marshmallows,hot dogs and,of course,corn on the cob.
In between the beginning of summer and the end,there were endless hours of swimming,and we usually endured at least one hurricane during which everyone huddled inside and we would light the wood stove and make lot of popcorn.
In mid August,there were meteor showers and usually I would lay down on the front seat of the car and watch as the skies were filled with luminous streaks.I would tune into radio stations from far away places too.Stations we could never get during the day.I loved this time and usually drifted off to sleep thinking big thoughts about the universe.By dawn I was usually awakened by the sounds of raccoons or porcupines forageing in our yard.I think those were,and still are my favorite days of summer.
By the time September came I was ready for school,and,regardless of what I told anyone at the time,I was looking forward to going back,and to the turning of the leaves and the coming of cooler,frosty mornings.
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