Summer is in full bloom here on the prairie and with it, as every year, come back memories of my childhood almost always spent with either set of grandparents. They are my fondest memories from my childhood and interestingly they have something in common- a kind of freedom provided by the old and the wise in my family.
My maternal grandmother had a large farm with grain fields, animals, orchards and a vegetable patch. Needless to say she and my grandpa were very, very busy people. They almost never had time for us, myself and my countless cousins, not in the traditional sense at least. They always knew where we were, they always provided us with food but usually our days were spent in the very way we kids wanted. My grandparents never inteferred into our activities unless they were asked for help with something, they never forced us into doing anything unless it was Sunday church but even that wasn't really forcing because it was simply something that everyone did on that particular day. Just like having chicken soup for lunch, it was just there. It was an invaluable way for me to grow up as the rest of the year would be spent in a big capital city full of noise, dirt and general lack of spontaneity, the kind that countryside always suggests to me.
My other set of grandparents lived in a city so summers there were , you'd think, completely different, and yet they too were able to provide me with unlimited freedom albeit we only had two rooms to live in. My paternal grandparents taught me a lot, and I mean taught in the traditional sense, with face time and instruction, explaining, taking to places and showing things. My grandpa would take me to the forest to forage, to show how to find and recognize mushrooms, berries, and them dry them at home or turn into jams. We learned to play cards, read, embroider, tweak with tools, and that was a natural extension of the surroundings which we were confined to, the infamous 1-bedroom apartment they still live in now. My grandmother, a cook at a hospital, taught me how to cook by letting me observe first and then slowly including me in all her activities finally ending with allowing me to make an entire dinner by myself. And I was 9 years old at the time! I bet she was sitting in the living room, biting her fingernails with anticipation- did she burn her hair yet? will the food be at all edible? At least that's what I'm assuming...
What are the fondest memories of your childhood? What kind of attitude do you remember that's worth replicating in your parenting style? What was it that you remember hating about being younger, the treatment you received?
I was recently thinking about all of this and I can say that basically it all distills into being free, being set loose physically and mentally to climb the trees in the garden and in my head, with a watchful eye of the loving adult behind the window.
I couldn't end without giving you another recipe, this time for a summer soup.
SOUR CHERRY SOUP
serves 4
1 tbsp plain flour
4 fl oz/ 1/2 cup sour cream
generous pinch of salt
1 tsp caster sugar (beige unrefined sugar from Mauritius)
8oz/ 1 1/2 cups fresh sour or morello cherries, stoned (sorry but canned or frozen cherries simply won't do)
1 1/2 pints/ 3 3/4 cups water
2oz/ 1/4 cups sugar
Blend the flour with the sour cream; add salt, caster sugar.
Cook the cherries in the water with the sugar. Gently poach for about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside 2 tbsp of the cooking liquid for garnish. Stir another 2 tbsp of the cherry liquid into the flour and sour cream mixture then pour this onto the cherries.
Return to the heat. Bring to a boil then simmer for 5-6 minutes.
Remove from the heat, cover with plastic wrap and leave to cool. Add extra salt if necessary. Serve with a little cooking liquid swirled in.
This is a cold summer soup in the same tradition as cold cucumber and yoghurt tarator from Bulgaria, tzatziki in Greece, beet and cream chlodnik in Poland and Lithuania.
Smacznego!
Summer memories of freedom
Childhood Memories
The person that I remember most fondly was Mr. Crouse, who lived across the street from my grandparents. He was an inventor, and I thought that he was the most brilliant person in the world. He could make or fix anything. He was very kind and never talked down to me, and never assumed that I couldn't understand something because I was young. If I ever have children I will try to follow his example.
exploring the woods in Northern Idaho
My family's roots extend to a small, mountain town in Idaho. We'd take trips to visit during the summer, and I got the opportunity to explore the woods, local creek and the little town, itself, unescorted. There were the old fashioned sodas from my uncle's gas station, the deer in the field, large labs to play ball with and all the polenta and stew I could eat. This was the *only* time I ever was served polenta and stew; my aunt tried to show Mom how to make it, but it didn't work out.
I was also given free reign at the library and book store, which had its benefits and negative aspects. I read a lot of adult fiction that left me with a sense of loss, and no one I felt comfortable enough to discuss it with. On the other hand, I visited locations all over the world through books, every time period imaginable, even other-worldly lands.
Some things I try to avoid, as a parent, are yelling (my mother is a yeller) and being caught up by unconventional appearance. If my son wants to have a mohawk, I'm good with that. If my daughter likes hot pink and zebra stripes, that's fine. What's more important to me is the quality of their character, which is not defined by hair styles or fashion.
I work at being approachable---have fun and laugh more. I don't always succeed, but I try. I think it's important to be silly sometimes.
Being set loose ...
Polka, your reminiscences have brought back a flood of memories for me! My maternal grandparents lived in the country too, and let me and my siblings run free in ways we weren’t allowed to at home. Those times—exploring their creek, the woods, and the fields, grabbing a cheese and mayo sandwich for lunch in between adventures—were very happy times for me.
My mother’s attitude, mostly noticed when I was older, that being an individual was okay; and her willingness to be silly or absolutely outrageous in my presence. She didn’t do these things in any negative way that I can recall; it was all in the spirit of innocence, and fun for fun’s sake.
Not being taken seriously. Kids will always have some harebrained ideas, not having a knowledge of history and life experiences that grownups (in theory, at least) do; I know I had my share. I think that had someone engaged me seriously, and helped me separate the youthful misconceptions from the ideas and principles that had merit, I would have had more self-confidence and willingness to acknowledge and follow my heart’s desires early on.
Your recipe sounds wonderful; thank you for posting it. It reminds me of a Scandinavian “recipe” one of my aunts prepared—fruit soup. She combined a lot of fresh fruits and a fair amount of alcohol ... I don’t recall if cooking was involved, but the soup was served cold and was splendid. I’ll look for some cherries to try your soup next time I go shopping.