Aunts, Uncles and Cousins by John Caverhill Uncle Harold and Aunt Georgina (Georgie) and cousins Connor, Bruce and Barbara from Toronto visited us each summer. Uncle Harold was a pleasant, quiet-spoken man who took great interest in the farm where he grew up. Aunt Georgie was bubbly and loquacious. A city girl all her life, her ideal environment would have contained only those elements that could be cleaned, polished or pruned. We always enjoyed each other’s company but while Uncle Harold and my cousins ranged over the whole farm, Aunt Georgie stayed close to the house. The barns obviously hadn’t been dusted for years and the pigs behaved like – pigs! A few days’ visit to the farm was sufficient for her for the whole year. There is an old adage, “Blood is thicker than water”. Meaning fam- ily ties are stronger than the stresses of daily life. A revised version expresses the opposite sentiment, “Blood is thicker than water – and relatives are always punching each other in the nose to prove it!”. Thankfully the original version applied to our relatives because family get-togethers were a large and enjoyable part of our life. Uncle Harold and Aunt Georgina (Georgie) and cousins Connor, Bruce and Barbara from Toronto visited us each summer. Uncle Harold was a pleasant, quiet-spoken man who took great interest in the farm where he grew up. Aunt Georgie was bubbly and lo- quacious. A city girl all her life, her ideal environment would have contained only those elements that could be cleaned, polished or pruned. We always enjoyed each other’s company but while Uncle Harold and my cousins ranged over the whole farm, Aunt Georgie stayed close to the house. The barns obviously hadn’t been dusted for years and the pigs behaved like – pigs! A few days’ visit to the farm was sufficient for her for the whole year. One particular event involving my brother Ron and cousin Bruce solidified Aunt Georgie’s opinion about the farm. At that time, we had horses; two, Pat and Nell made up our working team and our third horse was semi-retired, Old Maude as she was always called, was gentle and patient and we used to ride her bareback. It was a hot summer morning. Ron and Bruce decided to ride Old Maude back through our bush and out to a pond just outside the bush on our cousin Campbell’s farm next to ours. At five years old, and the youngest of all the family cousins, I was considered too young to take part in most activities. As usual, I trailed along behind Old Maude and her riders, arriving eventually at the pond. The pond which sat in one corner of a cow pasture was at its usual midsummer low level with the water surrounded by a wide ring of mud flats. To get a drink, the cattle had to cross the flats to reach the water, and their hooves kept the mud, a heavy, sticky grey clay churned to the consistency of wet cement. Just as pigs are pigs, so cows are and their excretions both liquid and solid combined to give the mud a little extra “bouquet”. The boys rode Old Maude across the flats to the water so she could have a drink. She finished her drink, and they were turning to head back to dry land when a bullfrog exploded from the mud behind them. Startled, both boys whirled to see the cause of the eruption, and losing their balance toppled sideways, sprawling full length in the mud with (to me) a most satisfying splash. They had just sucked themselves upright dripping with mud when Old Maude swung a heavy hind foot up to dislodge a horsefly from her belly; then let it drop again. The big, flat-bottomed Perche- ron hoof hit the mud with a wallop and the resulting eruption of sludge engulfed the boys covering any spots that might have been missed the first time. What might have seemed a disaster to adults was a lark to the boys and the laughing and joking never stopped as they rode back home. I followed behind, not wanting to miss what I hoped would be an interesting reaction, especially from Aunt Georgie. The trek home gave their coating time to dry to a blotchy light grey, somewhat reptilian in appearance. Their hair had dried in spiky tufts which heightened the resemblance to some sort of weird reptile. The boys’ impact was not only visual but olfac- tory because the mud and cow effluent combined to create a Page 8 Ilderton and Area Villager • October 2024 It was a great weekend of events! to our relatives because family get-togethers were a large and enjoyable part of our life. One particular event involving my brother Ron and cousin Bruce solidified Aunt Georgie’s opinion about the farm. At that time, we had horses; two, Pat and Nell made up our working team and our third horse was semi-retired, Old Maude as she was always called, was gentle and patient and we used to ride her bareback. It was a hot summer morning. Ron and Bruce decided to ride Old Maude back through our bush and out to a pond just outside the bush on our cousin Campbell’s farm next 23778 RICHMOND ST NORTH (519) 666-0286 • crunicanorChardS.COM 11554 Ivan Drive, Ilderton 519-666-1255 • bloomersfarm.com Fridays 10am-5pm Saturdays 9am-3pm Sweet Pea
pigs are pigs, so cows are and their excretions both liquid and solid combined to give the mud a little extra “bouquet”.
pungent aroma of Eau de Barnyard. You could almost see the odoriferous waves emanating from the boys when they moved. Now Mother was not accustomed to having her men folks present themselves covered from head to foot with mud at the door, but she was used to coping with muddy overalls and coats, especially in late fall and early spring. She would do whatever was necessary to clean the clothes, leaving the wearers to clean themselves. Her offspring however would have to pass rigorous inspection before being allowed to mingle once again in public. This was done with minimum fuss, being an accepted part of life on the farm. When she saw the boys, she was surprised enough to exclaim and ask whatever happened, but at this point, Aunt Georgie took over and her performance was even better than I had hoped for. Calling loudly on the Saints to preserve as she grabbed a broom and herded the giggling twosome out to the pump in the yard. There, as instructed, the boys doused each other with pails of cold well water until they were relatively mud-free. At this point, Dad and Uncle Harold intervened and took to the boys back to the barn where they each had a hands-on lesson in using curry comb and brush to restore Old Maude to her former mud-free condition. The whole episode concluded in the woodshed. Here a laundry tub of water, perfumed soap (Aunt Georgie’s), a tow- el and clean clothes awaited each boy. When they presented themselves post-bath, pink and glowing, a rigorous sniff test was applied, (Aunt Georgie was the sniffer; the boys the sniffees), and a passing grade was given, but not without additional mean- ingful sniffs by Aunt Georgie, who implied that only because it was lunchtime was a passing grade given. As for me, I had found the morning’s adventures immensely entertaining. It was tiresome being constantly told, “You're too young!” when wanting to join the gang in their fun. While I would have happily taken part in the initial mud bath, the follow-up was much more enjoyable as a spectator than a participant. I espe- cially enjoyed the boys’ reaction when they were confronted with the perfumed soap. To me, it was a sort of just retribution for being considered, “Too young”. Aty McNair operated a daily route delivering milk from local farms to Silverwoods Dairy in London. On picnic day, he would pick up the ice cream which came in two and a half gallon pails. These pails were put in cylindrical, insulated containers that could hold up to three stacked on top of each other. The ice cream would still be firm when opened that evening. The perfect dessert was a large piece of dark chocolate cake nestling beside two large scoops of icy-cold, silky-smooth vanilla ice cream. Finishing off the picnic supper with this queen of desserts – and tomorrow was the beginning of the Summer Holidays! Things couldn’t get any better than that! Some games and races for the kids while the adults visited together concluded the event by nine o’clock. Families made their way to their cars, the kids calling good-byes to each other. In many cases, we wouldn’t see each other until September and for grade eight graduates, it was off to high school and a whole new adventure. Graduation ceremonies for public school students were still in the future when consolidated schools came into being. Nobody thought of any special treatment because you were simply doing what was expected of you. Summer Holidays started tomorrow and that was enough. frozen treats in addition to ice cream, it’s hard to comprehend what a rare treat ice cream used to be. Not until well after the war ended in 1945 did home appliances start to become available at affordable prices. The ice cream had to be bought and eaten on the spot or wrapped in a blanket, rushed home and consumed quickly before it melted. As a result, it was a treat enjoyed only a few times a year. Manicures • Pedicures • Waxing • Nail Art Design The boys rode Old Maude across the flats to the water so she could have a drink. She finished her drink, and they were turning to head back to dry land when a bullfrog exploded from the To advertise here, please contact Tami@villagerpublications.com 13196 Ilderton Road 519-666-1888 h2beautynails.salon@gmail.com Monday – Friday 9:30-6:30 Saturday 10-6 • Sunday 11-5 • Farm-raised beef • Chicken • Pork products • Fresh eggs • Local honey • Maple syrup • Baked goods • Dips • Seasonings • Cheeses • Lasagnas • Cottage, Beef & Chicken Pot Pies • Soups • Pizzas • Fresh Bread • Black Sombrero Chirozo • Speciality meat boxes • Gift Baskets • and more!
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John Caverhill is the younger son of the late Ernest Caverhill and Susie Boyd of Lobo Township. John’s writings often reflect his experiences and observations of growing up on the family farm, attending the one room school, S. S. No. 7 Lobo (Bear Creek School), and Vanneck United Church. John’s sense of humour and story-telling skills are legendary. His keen observation skills have augmented his repertoire .
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