This was written in October, 2021.
I live on 10 acres in rural Connecticut, and never am I more grateful for room to roam than when my granddaughter Ellie visits. To her, we live in a wonderland.
She came one fall day while her mother, my daughter Anna, visited friends.
Ellie picked a little apple off one of our trees and munched on it. She sampled raspberries off our bushes and decided they were too tart, but liked eating the last grapes from Pete’s vines.
We went to our pond and sat on the dock, looking for fish.
It was wonderful.
Until a gust of wind snatched Ania, her beloved, pink, stuffed elephant. The sudden breeze sent Ania sailing away and deposited her in the middle of the pond.
I was horrified. So was Ellie. She looked at me and said, "Ania WET! Ania FELL! Ania go swimming?"
Our pond is not large. Maybe one third of an acre. But as Ania drifted, I saw that, little by little, she was absorbing water and might soon sink into the pond’s 14-foot depth.
Of course, my husband Pete wasn't around. Neither was my son Tim, home to get a break from grad school. They were both in the house watching football.
So I hustled Ellie the 300 feet or so from the pond to the house, shrieking for help.
Pete was unperturbed, saying the wind would probably send Ania back to the dock sooner or later. He always did panic less than me. All I could picture was us – me - diving into 50-degree water to rescue the toy. I ran to get our canoe, and Pete followed to help pull out the canoe and fetch paddles, since I had no idea where they were.
The canoe was 20 years old and began to tip precariously.
Our canoe is 20 years old. It hasn't been in use for years. We keep it upside down to keep water from collecting. It floats. Otherwise it is not in the best shape.
I grabbed it, dragged it down the water, and jumped in, sitting on the back seat. As soon as I sat down, the very dry cane webbing on the seat began to break. So I switched to one of the thwarts, the bar across the canoe attached to each side. Instantly, the thwart snapped off. The attachment holding it to the canoe had decayed. I wound up on my ass at the bottom of the canoe, which was tipping precariously. And Ania was sinking all the while.
So I got in a kneeling position, shoved off and, while I am not Minnehaha, I still had my old form. I managed to slide the canoe next to Ania as only her elephant trunk remained above the water, like a stuffed, pink periscope.
I scooped up Ania and tossed her unceremoniously in the boat. It seemed as though the toy had absorbed a gallon of water. But no matter. Ania, who had no life preserver on, was saved from being pecked to death by bass in the chilly water of the pond.
I washed and dried her before Anna came home.
All the while Ellie said, "Ania WET! Ania FELL! Ania went SWIMMING!"
Then Ellie wanted to see the fish again.
Grandmothering is not for the faint of heart!!