This summer, Maya, Michael and I got to spend a lovely chunk of time in China Village with my family. Michael has already started school back in (still sweaty) Houston, but Maya and I are extending our visit by another ten days so that we can attend my Grandma’s memorial service this weekend. While my parents are at work during the day, Maya and I have been left to our own devices. Sometimes we drive an hour and visit my sister and her little family, but sometimes we just bop around China Village.
My dad is always suggesting that I should do a China Village tour for my blog, since it inspired the name. And now we’ve had time to make that happen! So today, a small photographic tour of even smaller (but still sweet!) China Village.
It’s about a five minute walk down the hill to China Lake, where there’s a little ice cream/fried foods stand with picnic tables near the boat launch. Maya had her first licks of ice cream here last weekend and it was glorious. I’m tempted to give her ice cream every day just for her reaction of pure delight. But I’ll refrain, if only because I ended up eating most of the ice cream and I have very little restraint when it comes to chocolate.
A little ice cream interlude before we continue on our tour…
Total and utter happiness. I feel ya, girl! And we started with chocolate and with sprinkles because that’s how ice cream should be done!
Right, so, back to business.
At the edge of the lake is the little Baptist church with a bell that tolls every hour and half hour. I rarely notice it, but Maya notices it every time and starts boogying.
Right next door to the church is the fire station, where I learned to ride my bike because it was the only paved parking lot in the village. We’ve also got major respect for the fire department – it’s made up completely of such brave and dedicated volunteers. We had a fairly large fire in our house in the early 90’s and they were all brilliant despite the scary night. It was started by a plumber who came to thaw a frozen pipe (such is January in Maine in a really old house!) and smouldered up the inside of the wall in the kitchen for hours before my mom heard a crackle.
My dad worked nights at the newspaper back then and heard about it on the police scanner they used to pick up stories! He had a big old (slightly mortifying) bright orange former utility truck at the time and he always says he must have hit 100 miles an hour on the straight aways racing home to us that night! As soon as my mom called the fire department, she sent the three of us across the street to the neighbors (Charlie was maybe 2, so I was 9?) with our new puppy, where we waited while they got the fire under control. Turns out the walls had been stuffed with old newspaper for insulation and they had to take half of the second floor off and rebuild. It was dramatic! But I also remember all the teachers at our primary school sent us meals and someone brought over homemade donuts. Small towns are the sweetest.
You might recognize this one. Built in 1811 and lovingly (and sometimes grudgingly) restored and continuously repainted by my parents, it’s why China Village is such a cosy home to me. They bought it when I was just ten months old and my mom reports that I was so chubby and uninterested in moving that she could set me on the counter and I wouldn’t move an inch. Maya would fling herself off the counter and be halfway up the stairs if you turned your back for a second!
We grew up within shouting distance of the village library and took full advantage of the somewhat lax neighbor return policy. Luckily, the librarian Mary still likes us all! I used to go to story hour there, and then in middle school I ran the story hour. I wish I’d been on the ball, I would have resurrected it this summer since we’ve been here so long!
Next door to the library is Peggy’s house, she taught us piano lessons for years and there was a recital every spring. One year I got a bee sting on the behind right before the recital and still managed to play my little song! She still lives there and always makes homemade bread for us at Christmas time.
A few other stately clapboard homes in the village. We actually lived in the one above for a few months while our house was being rebuilt after the aforementioned fire. The owner back then was another teacher at my mom’s school and they were selling the house, so they let us live there while it was on the market. I do remember having to go to the library a lot so we weren’t in the house while they were showing it! I also remember the aforementioned puppy pooping on the Oriental rugs!
And the sweet little post office! Priscilla has been the post lady there since I was too small to even see over the counter, although I think she’s retiring soon. I used to come visiting with tiny, sweaty handfuls of earthworms plucked from the garden. It’s no wonder I’m still remembered there! 😉 There was also a phase when that handicap ramp came in really handy for our rollerblading laps. We used to love when they repaved the parking lot!
Thanks for touring my China Village and sticking around for my memory lane moments!
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