I wonder why it is some people call them fireflies and others call them lightning bugs? Is it regional, like soda and pop, or sack and bag?
In any case, the three of us
ate out on the back porch tonight and I was impressed with how many fireflies
were putting in an appearance. We got
into a discussion about the increased numbers being due to rehearsals for their big 4th
of July extravaganza, put on for the viewing pleasure of the local wildlife. It
was fun thinking about a magnificent "light" show, put on in some
mystical woodland glen. It makes quite
an interesting picture to spin in the mind.
What a sight!
Looking downstairs from my
perch just outside the computer studio as Faithful Scribe transcribes this, I
have a bird's eye view of the summer tree in the living room. In the current setting, the little white
lights look like fireflies. I never
thought of that before. One of these
days, I must tell you about our summer beauty!
We've been talking about the
4th of July when I was little, back in Baltimore. What I mostly remember are the sounds - the
effervescent fizzy sound of a sparkler, the loud BOOM! of the small but
powerful yellow fireworks my brother Al liked so much, the noises drifting to
our house from throughout the neighborhood of fire crackers going off and lots
of laughter and sounds of merriment.
Aside from the firecrackers,
I don't have a lot of memories of those days in Baltimore. I wonder why that is? I do remember, for the first time in I cannot
tell you how long, that we had a small barn out at the gend of our property and
we would eat our supper in its cool comfort, much much nicer that the hot
house. Have you ever been in Baltimore
in the summer? Hot and humid, very hot and
humid. Sticky.
One thing could always be
counted on to cool us down - home-made ice cream. Oh, that was heavenly. Back then, we made it in a big wooden
tub. My father would pour in the fresh
cream and let us kids take a whack at churning it. He would set a smaller tub into a larger tub,
with ice and salt packed between the two.
Papa would let us take a hand, moving the handle around in a circular
motion, around and around, which moved the paddle, which was in the cream and
worked its magic. We kids would take
turns churning it around, until it got too thick for us, then Papa would take
over and finish off the job. When it was
too hard to move another inch, he would slowly, ever so slowly, lift the paddle out. Oh, that was the very best moment of all,
when we got to lick the paddle. What
happiness. Then Papa would put the metal
lid on top of the small tub and we would pack in more ice and rock salt around
and over it and cover the whole thing with burlap.
July 4th would probably be
too early for it, but my favorite ice cream was peach. The peaches came off of that same Bella
Georgia peach tree that I managed to rescue when just a little mite. We'd peel the beautifully ripe peaches and
cut them up and add them to the cream.
That ranks, for me, as angel's food!
When they were in season, the Reynolds household had peach ice cream every
Sunday!
I think I will go downstairs
and see if there is any ice cream in the freezer!
Thinking of you all as we
head into the 4th of July home stretch, and of so many loved ones in loftier
realms who I am sure are enjoying some peach ice cream at this very
minute.
Love - Grammie Kay
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