18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Monday, July 1, 1913:
The hottest month of the whole year ‘round.
We may surely call July
When the sun shines down and makes us brown.
Then, oh then we often sigh.
(For a day in winter.)
The beginning of this month finds me at the same things I was doing yesterday.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
In the diary Grandma began each month with a poem. I’ve periodically pondered whether she wrote the poems herself—or got them from some other source.
Over time, I’ve gradually (with the help of some blog readers) come to the conclusion that she wrote them herself. This poem provides even stronger evidence that she wrote them herself.
The previous day she complained about getting a tan and this poem continues along the same vein.
I’m getting a liberal covering of tan on my arms. As for my hands they experienced that some time ago.
I decided to see how Grandma’s poems have changed across the years. Surprisingly (at least to me) the poems she wrote in July, 1911 and July, 1912 had similar themes to this one.
A whole half year has just leaped by,
And all can now witness the approach of July.
With all its plenty of frolic and fuss,
But beware and be cautious of the sun.
In the shadow of a shade tree,
There the weary often be,
After they have been well roasted,
In the hot sun of July.