Raisins

We enjoyed numerous Saturdays fishing from the bank at East Canyon Reservoir. We’d travel up Weber Canyon to Morgan and then on past to the East Canyon dam (Always a frightful experience; because the narrow dirt road was 2-3 hundred feet above the dam in those days. A vehicle encountered on the road in those days was genuinely dreaded by us boys sequestered in the back seat.) and then up the reservoir dirt road to one of our favorite spots. There we boys would fan out along the bank while Dad would don his waders and fish beyond the snags and chatter of novice sons. Mom and young Tammy would busy themselves with non-fishing cares and at times simply watch the fishing activity from nearby folding chairs.

I suppose sitting there quietly with her daughter and surrounded by the short sagebrush extending from the shoreline beyond the crest of the hills we inhabited; Mom was reminded of things her parents had related to her during her youth at her childhood home. On more than one event mom shared the following story to me.

Inasmuch as both Grandpa and Grandma Ford truly enjoyed fishing; it was not unusual that they’d take their children along such a fishing excursion whenever the opportunity presented. Granpa, being an industrious young man; was not often afforded the spare time to go fishing. Hence, whenever they could; they’d don their fishing gear, grab their poles and head for one of the waters near Ogden, Utah. Grandpa would’ve spent time gathering grubs and worms the day before across the Weber River just west of their home. (Grandpa seldom fished with anything other than a grub and a worm on his hook. Hence, Grandma would follow suit.) Both Grandparents had developed a pretty good reputation as excellent ‘fishermen’; and Grandpa was teased about being able to catch fish ‘in a bucket’! While visiting Como (near Morgan) one summer; I witnessed Grandpa retreating from a nearby field with several fish on a stringer. He’d been fishing the field’s ditch (maybe two feet wide) and had hooked a couple successfully. (By golly, maybe he could catch fish in a bucket.)

Anyway, it was amidst these peaceful moments that Mom shared her story with me. I suppose watching Tammy nearby had jarred her memory. On one occasion when Mom (being the youngest child) accompanied her parents to a fishing spot her parents would frequent; young Bonnie wandered off from her parent’s focus and perused the sagebrush that seemed ever-present.  Mom explained to me that she was very young (perhaps 3 or 4) and did not wander very far. She explained that her mom dressed her in a delightful ‘pinafore’ that included an apron.

On one occasion when Mom (being the youngest child) accompanied her parents to a fishing spot her parents would frequent; young Bonnie wandered off from her parent’s focus and perused the sagebrush that seemed ever-present.  Mom explained to me that she was very young (perhaps 3 or 4) and did not wander very far. She explained that her mom dressed her in a delightful ‘pinafore’ that included an apron.

As she toddled down the dirt path back to her parents; she’d apparently been busy gathering a number of items in her apron. She was happily toddling toward her fishing parents; holding forth an apron filled with ‘pebble like’ granules resting gently within her carefully held apron extending from her pinafore.

As her mother happily observed her daughter’s industrious behavior; she gasped as she peered into Bonnie’s apron. Her innocent daughter extended her treasure to her mother and offered to share her bounty. To her mother’s dismay however; her daughter had been gathering many of the sheep droppings that had lain between & amongst the sagebrush on the ground. Her daughter had mistaken them for readily available raisins and was now, having dutifully gathered them; was offering them to her mother! (Thankfully, she’d not yet taken a mouthful!)

Mom allowed me to draw my own conclusions and ended her story there. I, of course, had a good laugh at my mother’s self-deprecating story of her childhood’s experience.