That's my Grandmother Kelly in that picture above. What is she there, four or five years old? She was born in 1894 so maybe this is 1898 or so. I really like this picture of her and I tell myself that I can see her adult face in the face of this little girl.
She has a doll baby carriage that she's loaded with some of her dogs and puppies. The one looking at the camera always says, "Help, save me from this rambunctious child!"
I know this back yard. I played there too. And here it is again, below, and her in it much later in her life.
I was glancing at Westways magazine last week. It's the magazine published monthly by the California AAA, or the Auto Club. I always turn to the next to last page right away to see the old photo and read the short write-up about it. We like old photos, don't we? This time the article was by Morgan P. Yates, and even though I don't know who he is, I like him already because of what he wrote in his article, Flower Stop. Let me quote just two sentences of it here.
It's easy to think of the past as occurring in shades of gray because that's how the old pictures present it to us. We know better, of course; the sky has always been blue.
That hit a chord with me and now when I look at these old photos I try hard to think of them in full color and if I know the place like I know this yard, I try really hard to imagine the day that surrounded the image I'm staring at, sitting here thousands of miles and days away.
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