One little sniff of dill and I am immediately standing in my grandmother's kitchen at the cottage. She is wearing a cotton dress and an apron over it. Sometimes the aunts are there too, and my mom. They are rattling dishes and moving around putting together all sorts of things to go with the hot dogs that are being cooked outside.
The trees in Canada made a sound unlike any other trees. They were huge and the leaves at the very top would move in the breeze and make that sound. Every now and again I'll hear that sound, usually when there is a storm working up, and again, I'm immediately transported. Now I'm watching my Uncle John mowing the lawn. My grandfather had a beautiful flower garden far on the side yard and the grass was always beautifully mowed. Uncle John took care of that as far as I know, and I remember a huge sweeper that followed the mower picking up the freshly cut grass.
When I see piles of leaves in the fall, I remember the huge pile of leaves one fall Sunday. There weren't any cousins at the cottage that day, just me. But there was a huge pile of freshly raked leaves (not only was the yard always mowed, but they raked it too!). I remember jumping and running and jumping. And then begging to be able to go home... the new fall shows were on tv and there was some show or another coming up on TV that I just couldn't miss.
The best thing about the cottage? It was family. The cottage was our family. Many of us were there every summer Sunday, others only on the 'must show' days... Father's Day and Grandpa's birthday, the official beginning and ending of the summer season. Whichever it was, the cottage was the place that Grandma and Grandpa surrounded themselves with their children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. One sniff of dill and there I am, right there again.
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