Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Monday, July 27, 2015

Paradise

Paradise flowed right around the main Stringam Ranch buildings.
Siblings with cousins.
To the adult residents of the ranch, it was the South Fork of the Milk River.
To us, it was a muddy, murky playground. Our entertainment. Our recreation. Our playmate.
It provided a solid skating surface in the winter and a wonderful swimming pool in summer.
In spring through fall, it was an endless source of educational fun as we hunted snakes and frogs. Tried to trap unwary fish. And generally made life miserable for any denizen so unfortunate as to capture our attention.
I learned to skate there. What is that little dictum that states that the hardest part about learning to skate is the ice?
That would apply to me.
But I digress . . .
I learned to swim there.
And I wish I could swim there, still.
On a hot summer afternoon, my siblings and I would invariably be found in the milky depths of our river.
I can remember exactly how the water looked - billions of grains of fine sand hanging suspended as the rays of sunlight shone through it.
I can remember how it smelled. Wet mud and fresh water and things growing.
And I can remember how it felt. Cool and soft as it slid across one's nearly naked little body.
The current was slow and sluggish, but still strong enough to prove a challenge when swimming against it. In fact, only my eldest brother, Jerry could make any headway. The rest of us tried manfully, or girlfully (is that a word?) to keep up.
We couldn't.
But we did flail with purpose and finally, I was able to at least hold my position.
It was a time of peace. When one's siblings were truly one's best friends. We watched over each other, fishing the smaller siblings out if they got in over their heads and keeping our St. Bernard, Mike from drowning anyone as he tried desperately to save them.
From time to time, the chief lifeguard, Mom, would appear at the top of the cliff beside the house and survey the area, counting heads and noting the general state of her six offspring. Then she would wave and disappear.
And we would go back to whatever she had interrupted.
It was a blissful way to spend the summer.
Sure, there were chores that had to be done. Acres of garden to hoe. Cattle to drive. Calves to brand. Feeding. Milking. Haying. Fencing. Mowing. Harvesting.
But for those few hours every afternoon, we had no duties. No pressures.
Just Chris' radio blaring out whatever was considered the day's top hits. The soft sand. The sunlight on the milky water.
And each other.
We were right.
It was paradise.

16 comments:

  1. Paradise indeed. I envy you your memories.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Definitely paradise. Swimming in a river is such a treat. One I haven't experienced in waaay too long. A memory to hug to myself though.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm the same. I haven't experienced it since I left there. Over forty years ago now . . .

      Delete
  3. I think I might have said in these comments a time or two that I don't like anything to do with the water ... but recently I realized that's not quite true. We swam in a very little river when I was young, and I have good memories of that, and would even go for a dip again if I had the chance. It wasn't scary like the ocean or a large river, and it didn't have leeches like the lakes did. It had tadpoles and harmless minnows and it had that smell! the one you described! Sigh. You've taken me back.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I agree. Small is better! Sounds like your river and mine were twins!

      Delete
  4. You did paint a picture of paradise. Oh, I wish I was back in the simpler life moments. As always your posts elicits a memory or two; thank you for that.
    Blessings and hugs for this one~

    ReplyDelete
  5. The break from chores play time is always the best time of the day.
    We had a teacher who appreciated that and would allow us to leave a stinking hot classroom, go to the taps and splash water on each other for a while.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Ah, the idyllic memories of childhood. My fave stories of yours.

    ReplyDelete
  7. What a beautiful memory. And I love the word you coined, "Girlfully" - I can't wait to share it with my daughter, who insists on spelling womyn should be spelled with a y. :)
    I also love the image of your St. Bernard working hard at rescuing. I bet he did better on the ice!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oops - half a cup of coffee this am was clearly not enough! That should have read, "insists on spelling women with a y"!

      Delete
  8. I love your stories Diane - I can't imagine a river that can be swum in and skated on (the joys of life in Australia where it's always warm)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was quite a shock to me to find that outdoor rivers and streams and lakes in other places in the world could be warm. I remember my first experience sticking a toe into the Mediterranean. Quite a shock to realize I wouldn't have the breath-catching first plunge into cold water!

      Delete
  9. There's nothing better in summer than a good swimming hole! I still swim in the lakes by my house whenever I get the chance.

    ReplyDelete

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