Way back in the Olden Days, I acquired a love of water.
Living in a farming community, the water rights,
and watering turns, were high on the survival list.
It meant life to us in many ways.
Our main water came from a wonderful spring above town which traveled in a large wide ditch,
then dumped into the Virgin River.
My father would go to the ditch very early every morning
to fill buckets of water for our culinary needs,
otherwise the the cows would beat him to the water and contaminate it.
This was a normal way of life to us.
And the watering turns were planned by the officials
so they would be fair and regular.
Each lot, or piece of ground was allowed so much time of use.
If your turn came in the middle of the night,
you would have to change the waters course
by pulling the wooden dam to another position
so it would stop flowing on the neighbors property and divert to yours.
It was very important to be prompt on changing the water so you would have your full turn,
or the neighbors would have more than you.
Sometimes tempers flared over watering turns
and shovels were a big threat if someone became too hot under the collar.
My first attempt at swimming was in the Tanner Ditch.
We would splash around in it stirring up the moss, mud, and the blood suckers!
Are you wondering what in the world is a blood sucker?
They are a slimy black-brown water creature about a inch long
that attaches to your skin and sucks your blood.
UGH.
I have pulled a billion off from me in that Tanner Ditch.
I also loved our watering turns because I would follow my Dad to the large garden
while he directed the water down the long furrows,
not too much and not too little.
Just a correct amount so the vegetables would get a good slow soaking
that would last until the next turn.
I enjoyed making mud pies at the top of the furrows.
You fill your hand with the wet sand-dirt at just the right consistency,
then dribble dots of mud on the dry ground.
Besides the decorated pies,
I would make castles with walls around them
and beam when my Dad would compliment me on my handiwork.
He was a great story teller and would help me make up stories about the people who ate the pies
and lived in the castles.
I soon graduated to the big time water by way of Washington Swimming Pool.
This was across the road from the old Cotton Factory and was the fun capital of Washington County.
The pool was privately owned but open to the public for a small fee.
It was a crude pool by today's standards,
with a fine sand bottom and black rock sides.
There was a large fresh water stream running into and out of it twenty four hours a day,
so never needed chemicals.
There were two diving boards-a high dive and a low dive,
with a pulley and handle bar running the length of the pool.
You would walk up a small hill, climb onto a platform, hold on to the pulley
and zip through the air three fourths the length of the pool.
They also had changing rooms, colored lights,
and some of the towns best swimmers and divers doing show off dives.
Two of my brothers and the pool's owners son's were the stars.
We thought they were all like movie stars-strong, talented, and handsome.
So as soon as I finished my chores at home,
I was seen walking to the Washington Pool where I learned to swim from my brothers,
getting my light complexion good and red and brown,
and my blond hair getting lighter and lighter.
My brothers all called me Blondie for years and years because of my blonde hair.
Oh how I loved my five brothers .
Now all this fun in the sun had its downside.
In those days we didn't know what sun guard was,
so our buckets were filled to the brim with the bad rays.
In later years I have been paying the price for loving the sun and water so much.
I have had many skin cancers and pre-cancers removed and still have some problems.
I had just the right ingredients for this result-Swedish fair skinned, blue eyes.
Then years later there was the ocean,
and Lake Powell to add to my bucket.
Oh well, it was worth it.
Those long ago summers hold wonderful memories for me.
I wish all my family could have had some of those adventurous,
care free times.
The most important part of those days, was the safety part.
We could be away from home for hours without reporting to our parents.
They knew we were with friends,
with none of the threats of danger that lurk around so many places now,
so it was a very special time for children growing up.
Of course there were hardships, hard work, and a depression, but a rural kid had it made.
How lucky could I be.
Love to you all--Grandma Ora
Lucky for me my mother-in-law and 
The Barker girls.
Thanks to this girl and her hubby we have made some great married friends 
This year I had the opportunity to be the weather girl for the Thursday news cast.
