This post of Schomberg scenes will probably only be of interest to my fellow Schomberg Nostalgia Queens. But to explain to anyone else who takes the time to scroll through - Schomberg is the small town where I lived from birth up to and including the first two years of married life.
So many sweet memories.
This is a pioneer cemetery in a neighbouring hamlet that I'd often bike to as a teen. Tradition was to stop for a wild apple if that was in season. Maurice and I also came here to picnic, take wedding pictures, and later to walk with our first baby.
It wasn't quite as idyllic as I remembered, what with unmown grass which made us think of ticks, and hordes of mosquitoes which sent the kids racing back to the van and begging to be granted asylum... :z
We drove past the house where Maurice and I first lived after we were married. We had a two bedroom apartment in the basement.
Just recently I was having that "when we were young" conversation with the kids to give them some perspective, and they were kind of shocked to find that for two years lived in an all pink (not our choice) basement apartment with essentially no yard access and nary a single window in the living room...
Back then I spent a lot of time walking back and forth from the lovely 10 Rice Drive (my parent's house, and also my place of employment, since I worked for my Dad.)
I love how unchanged Schomberg is. It looks like a scene out of Mitford, and I half expect to see "Main Street Grill" housed in one of these store fronts.
This park closely fenced around with chain link has a face only a mother could love, perhaps. We swung our babies here, and though I can't remember, I know my mother must have done the same with us long before.
Below the children are gawking at the travesty of the old homestead. Though the house is barely recognizable, the street looks almost exactly the same and I dare say many of the neighbours are the same almost 20 years later. Schombergians don't uproot easily, I think.
Down to the marsh, where in winter we used to skate through reeds and under and around fallen trees. Sometimes Dad would build a campfire on the ice.
I'm even nostalgic about Schomberg wild grasses and weeds. My little sweethearts picked me a bouquet.
While Maurice and I and Anneke were all enjoying the sweet memories, several of the others ("who knew not Joseph", as Dad later pointed out) were blistered, starved, agonized by thirst, and in need of a restroom. Old neighbours with whom we had stopped to chat (who say hi to everyone, btw) pointed out there was now a MacDonalds in town. So we silenced groans with burgers, fries, and ice cream, across "the 27 way" from our old hangout Brownsville Junction. (Back in the day there was a well worn path to there from 10 Rice Drive - across a sea of grasses or corn - to fetch groceries, Dubble Bubble gum, and the occasional ice cream.)
We would have liked to also stop at the next small town in which we lived - where Joe and Jim were born - but by now the sun was setting behind the old cemetery and we knew we'd better hurry home.
I'm so thankful for God's love and familial love that makes our growing up memories so rich!
