There are a number of sounds I have come to associate with our summers on Pelee Island. Sounds that when heard again, in the years to come, will most likely conjure up nostalgic summertime memories for me; crashing waves, tinkling chimes, giggling children. When I’m old and grey I hope it will be my children’s laughter I remember most. Sounds of them throwing open the old screen door after a day at the beach, feet sandy, faces golden, the slamming screen behind them and my not-so-gentle reminders to wipe the sand from their feet.
Now here we are; the end of August. The Winery has started up their noise machine. A necessary tool in saving the vineyards from being devoured by the birds, it mimics the sound of a gunshot. I don’t mind. The sound takes me back to my own childhood when my family had a farm on the Stoney Creek Mountain. While I can’t say we used a noise machine, many of the neighbouring farms did. This sound, with all the memories it stirs up, reminds me summer is making way for fall, the constant changing of seasons. The sound of my own childhood laughter replaced with that of my children.
Me (on the left) with my sister in 1971. My brother would come later.