They Flew Out Like Butterflies

Photo: Pinterest | Uploaded by skinnydreaming

I am snooping through old photo albums this week. Memories that have lain dormant, some for decades, floated up from yellowed pages like butterflies on the move. Some pictures I remember the moments well. Others, not so much -- it's a little like looking at a stranger in a magazine, except she feels familiar.

The reason I'm poking in these old photos is to collect images that represent the seasons and times of this little life of mine. You see, I'm turning the big 6-0 later this spring and, after watching two lovely photo videos created in honour of Queen Elizabeth's 90th birthday, I thought I would like to try that same idea. It should be easier as I only need to gather sixty instead of ninety pics, and I won't have quite as many crowns or fancy ball gowns to capture, so I should be able to pull it off. For the Queen's 90 Years in 90 Photos, click here and here.

It's not so easy to choose just one picture to represent a year from dozens. And, yet, some years are scantily represented with not much more than the obligatory Christmas and birthday poses. Surely lives were fuller than that, but we didn't take pictures of everything in those years, the way we do now. We may think, too bad, but any childhood remnants that remain can tell us enough of the story to jog our own memory and be taken to places photos alone could not fully encapsulate.

After all, these old pics brim with details of tales clamouring to be revisited. The air charges with emotion as suddenly a dozen connecting stories are ignited from the glimpses of former hairdos and eyeglasses and dresses, not to mention thoughts of 'do you remember when...'. You laugh out loud at silly photos where you are caught red-handed in a big pillow fight with old dorm college chums, the teddy bears we girls collected at the time as watchful souvenirs of fading childhoods. Oh yes, there arises the occasional wail of 'what was I thinking' when you catch sight of your grade seven class photo where you are wearing a pastel green top with light blue pants shored up by geranium red socks. You can read all about that tale here.

When such memories are triggered, you feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole -- you could be gone a long time before you emerge back into the sunlight of day. Which is exactly what has been happening to me this week.

Since I'm linking to Five on Friday today, I'm sharing only five of those sweet, old photos... you'll have to wait for my birthday to catch sight of the finished project '60 Years in 60 Photos'.

One

Here I am almost three years old staying with my dad's mother while my mom is in hospital having my little sister. My aunty, still a young lady herself at home with her parents, lets me play with her bead necklaces and I get to sleep in her bed at night. Alas, I repay that kindness by peeing in her bed one night; the memory of that is considerably faded, thankfully.

My grandma apparently was a good cook and baker. I have no recollection of anything she baked, although I do remember that her kitchen was often fragrant with the warm spicy aroma of cloves. And, decades later, I only have to catch a whiff of the spice to remember Grandma's nice city kitchen. 

  

My dad, Grandma, and me

Two

As you can see, I was quite taken with my aunty's beads -- I wore them with everything. My dad would stop to see me when he'd come into the city to visit my mom and my new little sister at the hospital. I had no idea what a little sister was, but I was soon to find out.

In the meantime, Grandma's house was an interesting place to visit. There was tall, narrow door off the kitchen porch, which opened to the outside to the clothesline. And, I just now remember the little nook at the backdoor where the milkman dropped off the bottles of milk every morning. What fun to open and peer in and close that little door, it being the right size for me. This would have been all new to me, living out on the farm and getting milk straight from the cows. Oh, and there was the little girl I could play with sometimes; she lived across the street and I was allowed to walk across the quiet residential street by myself ... of which I felt very proud.

I loved my Grandpa as he would set me on his knee and ask me to show him my teeth. I'd smile widely and he'd admire immensely. He wore wire sleeve garters which totally intrigued me and I was allowed to play with them. According to Wikipedia, sleeve garters came into wide use in the late 19th century "when men's ready made shirts came in a single (extra long) sleeve length. Sleeve garters allowed men to customize sleeve lengths and keep their cuffs from becoming soiled while working or at the correct length when worn under a jacket".

Mom, little sister, and me (with teddy)

Three

Here we are with our beautiful mom. Funny, my recollections of this little sister are vague at this early age. I would have watched my mom bath her and gently run water over her hair. I would have watched her being changed and maybe running to fetch the needed flannel cloth diaper. I must have loved this little sister dearly for I love her dearly still.

I still have vague impressions of our cozy farm living room. I certainly remember that green bouclé couch with crocheted doilies everywhere. I loved doilies and as I grew I loved to watch my mom work the cotton threads into pretty patterns. Notice the orange pillow and zinnias? I could put those into my own living room and be right in fashion.

Dad, little sis, and me

Four

My dad, handsome fellow that he was, has a grandson now who tries to get his hair cut to emulate his grandpa's jaunty look. Apparently that 1950's look is quite chic these days with young men.

After my dad passed away a number of years ago, it was looking at these wonderful old photos that gave me so much comfort. A part of me wanted to go back there where we were all so happy and he was still my daddy, here with us, strong and good.

Me and Little Sister testing out the new tricycle

Five

Sis and I think we're all dressed up in our pretty dresses because it's her birthday. Somewhere in the family there is a cake photo where she's having great fun picking at the icing. But here we share a little pose on my new trike ... it was my own new birthday present ... for we two sisters have the happy fortune to share the same birthday month.

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"Golden threads of imagination will always be found woven into the fabric of a human life, and it affords one of the sweetest pastimes to old(er) age to sit down and slowly unravel them, recalling the hours when first they were spun." ~ James Lendall Basford (1845–1915), Sparks from the Philosopher's Stone, 1882

"Back on its golden hinges The gate of Memory swings, And my heart goes into the garden And walks with the olden things." ~ Unknown

"A happy memory is a hiding place for 'unforgotten treasures.' " ~ Paul L. Powers

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On that note, I wish you a most pleasant weekend. And, if you go in search of your own old photo albums, I recommend bringing a bag lunch and tea, you might be down the rabbit hole in a jiffy, enjoying yourself all afternoon.

Hugs and blisses,

Brenda

x ♥ x