This is a great photo, not just of Elizabeth but of Penrose. The smile on Elizabeth's face certainly gives the impression she could take off at any moment.
This photo is one of those special shots that tells a whole batch of stories. I remember posing Liz on the bike as if it were five minutes ago. She always minded me. I didn't realize we cruelly didn't allow her on the new bike. Just double click and study the details.
Bedroom windows are open - it was a hot summer day in August (I know because Mother gave us stinky sulphur-smelling perms.) I felt very grown up because my braids of 12 years had been cut off, and this is the only time I ever got to get on the Schwinn bicycle. The new coal shed hadn't been built yet, because the old slab-sided one was there. And where is half of the gutter? We never minded that we didn't have a lawn mower - after all, grass was grass, and it beat sugar beets in the back yard. Thanks, Dwight, for making me believe that I could look like I could ride a bike.
How about the light pole? The light pole lighted our path at night to the barn,and to Aunties, and provided a place to nail an improvised backboard for basketball. Holstein, our battle-scarred black and white tomcat, with one ear half chewed off and head covered with scabs, was a coward, and could shimmy up to the top in a flash and sit there until danger passed. We had to have a lineman from the REA change the bulb. Without the light pole, we would truly have been in the dark.
And the light pole served as a base when we played baseball in the summer or fox and geese in the winter. As we have been surviving very cold weather in this part of the country, the open windows in the photo of Elizabeth on the bike reminds me of the winter windows - covered with a thick layer of frost/ice and how we would carve hearts and names etc. in the icy covering.
Liz was always obedient
6 comments:
This is a great photo, not just of Elizabeth but of Penrose. The smile on Elizabeth's face certainly gives the impression she could take off at any moment.
This photo is one of those special shots that tells a whole batch of stories. I remember posing Liz on the bike as if it were five minutes ago. She always minded me. I didn't realize we cruelly didn't allow her on the new bike. Just double click and study the details.
See how many stories you can tell from what you see in the photo.
Bedroom windows are open - it was a hot summer day in August (I know because Mother gave us stinky sulphur-smelling perms.) I felt very grown up because my braids of 12 years had been cut off, and this is the only time I ever got to get on the Schwinn bicycle. The new coal shed hadn't been built yet, because the old slab-sided one was there. And where is half of the gutter? We never minded that we didn't have a lawn mower - after all, grass was grass, and it beat sugar beets in the back yard. Thanks, Dwight, for making me believe that I could look like I could ride a bike.
How about the light pole? The light pole lighted our path at night to the barn,and to Aunties, and provided a place to nail an improvised backboard for basketball. Holstein, our battle-scarred black and white tomcat, with one ear half chewed off and head covered with scabs, was a coward, and could shimmy up to the top in a flash and sit there until danger passed. We had to have a lineman from the REA change the bulb. Without the light pole, we would truly have been in the dark.
And the light pole served as a base when we played baseball in the summer or fox and geese in the winter.
As we have been surviving very cold weather in this part of the country, the open windows in the photo of Elizabeth on the bike reminds me of the winter windows - covered with a thick layer of frost/ice and how we would carve hearts and names etc. in the icy covering.
Post a Comment