Dusty Feet – A Childhood Memory

August made me long for the return of school.  I was bored and ready to go back to jumping rope with my girlfriends; my older brothers were my only playmates during the long summer, and I was tired of being the brunt of their pranks. Yesterday, after they grew bored tying Kenny to the front maple tree and took off his pants so all the world could see his dirty underwear, they headed for me, but I saw what was coming and escaped into the house to help Gram watch the Edge of Night.

 

Today, they had already tied Rudy down on an anthill and put honey on him, blown up several frogs with firecrackers stuffed in places they had no business being, and I was keeping a very low profile.  I had slipped out the back door to go for a quiet walk and had asked Gram not to tell the boys.

 

I was probably eight that summer, which meant my brothers were certainly old enough to know better than to do the mean things they did. The oldest two were well into high school, but I guess living in the country with no one else around just brings out the trouble in the minds. It never seemed to take them very long to find it.

 

I wandered up the dirt road, keeping an alert ear to any indication that my brothers had realized I wasn’t close enough to grab.  It was a hot day and I could smell the sweet scent of freshly cut hay as I walked up to a small field; I waved to my uncle who was working on his old Farm-all tractor, and he waved back, a large wrench in his greasy hand. He wiped his brow with an old stained bandana and put the wrench back to work.

 

I began to slow my pace once I realized that I could no longer hear my brothers, and wished I had thought to bring a jar of water.  Suddenly, I knew where I would go; I had almost forgotten a spot that I had discovered last summer and I longed to go there.  My steps quickened again as I turned down a connecting dirt road, past the goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace and into a shady, much cooler space.  On one side of the road was a swamp, which was almost dry.  It had an odd smell, but not unpleasant.  We’d always been scared of the swamp; as kids we’d been told that the swamp had no bottom and that it would suck you down and you would drown instantly.  I gave it a wide berth as I walked by, both frightened and fascinated by its muddy water and dead cattails.

 

The road led me up a small hill and back into the heat of the sun.  My throat was parched, but I knew the brook was not far away.  The dirt under my feet was so dry that puffs of dust kicked up behind my dirty bare feet as I walked by a corn field.  The corn was as tall as I was, but I wasn’t afraid.  At times, my brothers and I would run through the corn playing hide and seek; somehow I was always the seeker and they were the hiders. Being a little sister, and the only girl, sometimes just plain rotted. I had often wondered what it would be like to be the oldest, or the only, or a boy.

 

I turned down a path that bordered the cornfield and scared a crow off of its perch. Scared me quite a bit too!  I could smell the heat rising off the dirt and the corn and I had to try and keep my bare feet to the patches of cooler grass as I closed in on my destination.

 

And just like that, the air suddenly felt and smelled cooler. I could hear the splashing of the cold brook water as it tumbled over the rocks. I had arrived at my special place!  I quickly found a spot that I could lean down and take a long drink of the icy water and drank sloppily, not caring that my hair had fallen into the water. I put my whole face in and it felt glorious!

 

I sat on my knees and surveyed my surroundings as I took a deep breath. I loved the smell of a brook on a hot summer day, and I was right in my glory.  I washed off my grubby hands and wiped them on my overalls, and then stuck my feet into the water. It was shockingly cold, but a delicious sensation.

 

Lying back, my feet dangling in the water, I listened. A chick-a-dee was calling from a small branch above me and in the distance I could hear a frog, but otherwise, it was silent.  I closed my eyes, leaned my head back and relaxed, taking it all in.

 

I slept for a long time. When I awoke, my feet were blue with cold and the late afternoon shadows told me that it was time to head home before Gram began to worry.  In the fog that always follows a long nap; I decided that this would not be the last time I would escape here this August. I just needed to keep my brothers from discovering my retreat. 

I Hate Slugs!

We have had a wet early summer, receiving few bright, DRY, sunny days, which has resulted in an astromonical number of slugs devouring my plants.  I usually don’t spend a lot of money on annuals, chosing instead to divide perennials and maybe add a few new ones, but this year I spent quite of bit on impatients, marigolds, snapdragons and zinnias.  The zinnias were the first to be stripped of their leaves, then the marigolds and zinnias disappeared almost overnight. As soon as I realized the culprit was slugs, I armed myself and declared war.

My weapon of choice is salt.  Because slugs are mostly water, an ample sprinkle of salt turns them to gel in a matter of seconds.  I go out several times a day to wage my attacks, often arming my 3-year old granddaughter with a salt shaker as well.  In one trip around my yard I can easily find and destroy fifty or more slugs, and I do this at least three times a day.

Yet I still have not gained the upper hand in this all out war. I found one this morning in the middle of my deck, which is wooden and five feet in the air. I hate to admit that they have the power to bring out this rage in me, yet I am unable to get past the idea of all the money and work I spent putting in annuals only for them to eat them.  I am not waving the white flag; I will continue my attacks, lest they take over my house! So far, they haven’t found the plethora of house plants I have (sh-h!)

I can say with certainty that I will not invest a lot of money in annuals next year, unless it is to make colorful planters that hang. I will spend the money on more salt.

Protecting Your Skin From the Sun

Think that suntan looks good? Think again!

Did you know:

 »According to the Cancer Center of the University of Miami, sand and pavement can reflect up to 85% of the sun’s harmful rays beneath and umbrella-providing shade at the beach does not protect your child!

 »Exposure to the sun’s damaging effects as a child may determine the chances of developing skin cancer as an adult?

 »On a cloudy day, a full 40% of the sun’s damaging rays penetrate the clouds?

 »Skin cancer is color-blind?

 »Ultraviolet “A” (UVA) rays penetrate most window glass?

 »There is no such thing as a “safe” tan?

 

 So what steps can you take to reduce the damaging effects of the sun for their child?

 The most important steps you can take are to limit your child’s exposure to the sun from 10am to 3pm, buy high quality broad-spectrum sunscreen with a SPF (Sun Protection Factor) of at least 15 that has the Skin Cancer Foundation’s Seal of Recommendation on the label (and apply liberally and often). Sunscreens are available as ointments, lotions, gels and sprays and protect against UVA (these ultraviolet rays do the most damage because they deeply penetrate the skin) and UVB (these ultraviolet rays burn the outer layer of the skin causing sunburn). Liberal application of sunscreen means that you should be using at least one ounce per child every two hours; even more if they’re swimming or sweating.

 Infants six months and under should not be exposed to the sun, nor should you apply sunscreen to their skin, according to the American Cancer Society. Remember that keeping them under an umbrella doesn’t protect them from reflected rays. Consider tossing a light blanket over their body and head when transporting them from the house to the car or in the stroller.

 Another way to protect your child is to purchase clothing that has a tight weave and is labeled as sun-blocking.  A plain white DRY t-shirt has a SPF of 3; wet it has virtually none.  You can purchase colorless dyes that you add to the washer that add sun-block properties to clothing-up to a SPF of 30.  It’s a convenient way to protect your toddler, ‘tween or teen.

 Miami-Dade County Public Schools have a sun protection policy to ensure that a student has minimal sun exposure during school hours. Although the school’s policy doesn’t include the use of sunscreens, it does actively promote keeping students and teacher inside between the hours of 10am and 3pm when the sun’s rays are at their strongest.

 Guarding your child from the sun is an important task.  Knowing the facts about sun damage and how to prevent future skin problems is the first step; applying that knowledge (and sunscreen!) is the second. Now get out there and enjoy the numerous activities summer has to offer!