Wednesday, July 16, 2014


Pictures of me as a child are scarce as hen's teeth. It's a hazard of being last born I guess. By then my mother had run out of time and inclination and more importantly, run out of film.
I'm guessing that this picture was taken late in 1959. I am probably almost two.
I've talked about this picture before but I cropped it this time. It makes it seem like a completely different picture.
I'm quite taken with my little dress. The layered look would actually be quite at home in 2014. I wonder if my mother or grandmother sewed it?
And the fabric in my sisters perfectly lovely.
I've always been enamored with fabric prints. They are pieces of artwork.  Art walking about. 
The doll my sister's clutching is one of those wondrous toys that live at grandparents houses. Toys that have absorbed the love of a generation or two.
How diplomatic and wise of my grandmother to have two old dollies. It's hard to share babies. Even King Solomon knew that.
I seem to be counting toes on the doll in my lap.
"This little piggy went to market...."
I have obediently gazed at the photographer but as usual, I see nothing to smile about.
I've been interrupted after all.

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