I really couldn't tell time for... well ... like a really long time.
So, to marked the passing of what I couldn't read, I did like plants do or what my cat does now -- by time, by light, by sound, by wind and, in my case, by the leaves on the trees in Sheriff Park.
As the trees got greener and the smells in the air weren't of radiators and cold, wet wool, I knew, just knew there would be a knock on the door and our version of Santa Claus, the United States Postal Delivery Man would appear with the holy grail of wonderfulness - a Sears & Roebuck box.
And without fail, at the very last possible second of the very last possible day that demanded I wear a sweater and my sturdy, once-a-year oxfords from Kaplan's on Clinton Street, that knock would come.
Behold. Summer and my Sneakers had arrived.
***
Additional postings:
Florence's sneakers walk the talk
Home and the love between Jupiter and Rags (r.i.p)
2 comments:
What memories. For us it was Eatons mail order. Mom would order my summer clothes and when that big brown paper package arrived (yes, tied with string, one of my favourite things) she would spread out the contents on the kitchen table and let me have a look at what I would be wearing all summer. What fun. Summer seemed to take a lot longer coming in those days didn't it?
What a great memory and story about the beginning of summertime. It was always such a magical time of year for me as a child.
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