In response to the Christmas tree on the porch, this brings back wonderful memories. I spent a lot of time trying to stuff the cat into the truck to take it for a ride. I don't recall which cat but I do know that is was not on board with the program.
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There's my doll! I still have it! Her name is Susan, the most beautiful name in the whole world. She resides in my cedar chest and sees the light of day when some child needs to bring her to life. This photo is one of those "Dwight posed specials" and I am so thankful that he did it.
So am I! I look at the tinsel draped so lovingly (one strand at a time). It would later be carefully taken off, untangled, and laid in the box of Christmas things to come out again next year. Lots of memories of Christmas Eve, Daddy, decorating the tree, and putting out our notes to Santa with the biggest stocking we could find. It was a magical time. House clean, Cold bedrooms opened to the heat, and colored lights reflected everywhere. It is amazing how evocative one picture can be. Thank you, Dwight, for your faithful attention to our pictue story. You were certainly a budding photographer.
The basketball had to be D's but I used that ball into high school, by the time I was through with it the surface was totally smooth, thanks Dwight.
I remember thinking that this Christmas tree image should be preserved but had no flash on my $1.98 Baby Brownie. So I dragged it out on the front porch, tinsel trailing everywhere, and rounded up whatever toys were in sight. Of course, we thought our Christmas trees were beautiful, even though mostly they were covered with tinsel and we had few "store bought" fancy decorations. And we could never put the tree up until Christmas eve. Only in the last few years did someone tell me why: Mother could buy a cheap tree in town late Christmas eve day.
I haven't really been ignoring this post. It took Carbonite almost two full days to restore all of my files after everything went to computer file heaven for some unknown reason. All of my files are now back and in place, so I can get on with the important stuff.
Judy's doll did survive her growing up years. Mine simply could not figure out how to regrow her hair after a major hair trim, nor could I ever get her face to look normal after a serious facial that was most expertly given.
The basketball provided many a Sunday afternoon's entertainment for Steve and me, and sometimes Judy. Once the basketball hoop was moved to the front of the granary (the old train car) over by the chicken coop, we spent a lot of time aiming for that round metal ring. As Steve got taller than I was, the game lost interest for me, but there were still the fun times when Dad would stop to shoot the ball with us.
I don't remember the little white rocking horse. The truck was a great dirt hauler when we ventured into the church lots to dig our holes in the dirt, build roads, create tunnels, avoid the ticks and the sticker weeds as we ran from the house to the mounds of dirt barefooted, etc.
Was this the year that someone (Judy) spent the night in the hospital or am I confusing that event with another year?
It won't really matter how many years pass, the smells and feelings of magic that Christmas created, come to life again at this time of year.
When Mother wasn't looking I was able to make the horse skip across the living room floor. Never was one to stand still too much.
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