Sunrise Beachwalk, Crescent City CA

Danse Macabre

The Blue Raccoon

Harborwalking at dawn, Port Angeles...

Port Angeles, WA

Floating World

Goat

I had always been fascinated by this rather bizarre photo of my mother with her father and brother, taken around 1922 in St. Paul, Minnesota.

In 2009 while visiting her home town, I visited the Minnesota Historical Center.

There was a slideshow going on in the lobby, and as I passed by, to my astonishment I saw pop up a faded photo of another family in a similar contraption.

After a bit of research I came to realize that this was no coincidence.

In pre-"selfie" days, it was a common novelty for children to be photographed by itinerant goatherd shutterbugs! So common that there's now more than one Pinterest page for it!



Though I can't promise more goatcards per se, check out this week's Sepia Saturday for more memories of times past.

Valentine

Happy St. Valentine's Day to all my faithful followers! Today's edition of Sepia Saturday concerns itself with this holiday, and so from my personal archives I dredge out these vintage cards which I have managed to hang onto for oh, over fifty years, knowing that someday I would find a use for them. Yes, these are actually leftovers from a batch I sent to my classmates around 1961, when I was in second grade, I think.

And here is the class itself! I suspect that this was one of my earliest attempts at photography, by my absence from the shot, and the tilt and altitude of the camera. I believe that the pensive girl at the center might be Wanda; at her feet is Lane, Preston (whose hair was always well Brilliantined) to his left in the stripes.

Here is another of my askew photos, of our beloved teacher, Mrs. Perry -- Gerry Perry -- Geraldine, that is. She taught me in third grade as well, before retiring. She was funny, kind, and occasionally fierce. I have never had a teacher I was more fond of.  And there is a self-portrait, myself drawing myself. Fidel Castro appears to be watching me, strangely. 

Anyway, on to the valentines... they came in a large booklet, and you carefully tore along the perforations... some, like this one, were their own envelopes.

This one is rather apt for me, isn't it?

Ooh, frilly underwear!

I love the combination of puns and stereotypes. Has anyone every really chewed on a piece of grass like that?

A bit stalker-ish...

I remember practicing telephone etiquette in class with one of these bulky things. We'd bought our house from a telephone company employee, who left Bell swag behind for my sister and me.

The "good old days" when no one worried about racism.

Or sexism.

When in doubt, go for a kitten!

Or a puppy!

Or...a pair of... sea lions. Whatever.

Mission District Walk

An afternoon in San Francisco...

Quarry

Wrap

End of the Petroleum Age

Look Both Ways

Blue stucco

Triple door

Lives of the Steiffs

Recently I posted on my other blog some photos of the Steiff animal diorama taken at Teatrino di Norimberga, in the Citta della Domenica park outside Perugia, Italy.

One reason I found the display so fascinating is that as child I collected a large number of Steiff animals, played with them constantly, and wrote stories about them. They all had names and distinctive personalities of course, and "backstories."

Recently I decided to take some portraits of them, as though they were people, which as far as my childish mind went, was in fact the case. I wanted to showcase their faces, so much more uniquely expressive than dolls'.

Here are a few. Take your time, look into their eyes. They will tell you something.

* * * * *

Mike the Airedale was named by my father for his own childhood pet. He was one of the first Steiff animals I was given.  He was well-loved, but unfortunately spent an unintentional winter in a backyard flowerbed, hence his disheveled state and somewhat reproachful gaze.

Christopher Smart was, I think my first Steiff.  He was named, again by my English professor father, this time for an old English poet. Perhaps it was Christopher Smart's (never just "Christopher") pensive expression that seemed to indicate a beatific namesake. He is a very small bear, easily fitting a pocket, especially the raincoat pocket in which Steiff animals typically arrived at our house. Her was always cheerful, but reserved.

Meet Hedgehog. Rapt of attention, rotund and flatfooted, always a bit sceptical. A good fellow but not quite furry enough to pet wholeheartedly

Here is Leo the Lion.  His moniker would of course be no surprise except I believe he is actually named for a hamburger joint and soda fountain in Seattle's University District where my father ate lunch between classes. Leo the Lion always had a large reservoir of patience, as you may be able to tell, and never roared.

An Easter present, Lamby still wears his (why not her? I don't know) pinkish ribbon and bell. Lamby is always a bit wistful.  Perhaps because he will never grow up to be a sheep.

These two mice bookend my Steiff life. The older, visibly knackered one (earless, tailless, pawless) had a fairly long life as "Supermouse."  His cohort was "Supercoon," a raccoon who, alas, has vanished along the way somewhere along with his silk handkerchief cape of pale blue. Super adventures aplenty befell, you may be sure.  Supermouse was supplanted (none too soon) by "French Mouse," who, along with my transition from the adoration  of superheroes and cowboys to superspies in my preteens, was a debonair (French, naturally) adventurer. He typically drove a pink and lavender-striped Jeep beach buggy that had a fringed canopy, if that is any indication of his panache.

Skunky (my naming choices were often rather pragmatic) was, if you'll pardon the pun, a little stinker. He was typically in a foul mood, rather like Templeton the Rat in Charlotte's Web. But you could rely on him in a tight situation, and of course he had an excellent built-in defense mechanism.

This squirrel was, as far as I can recall, named Squirrelly. He was a bit useless, as he kept falling over. Here he leans on a giant pinecone. 

Piggie made an excellent sidekick for whoever was leading the current adventure. Quick of foot, and sharp of eye. And once upon a time, twirly of tail. It is now rather limp and mangy.

Polarbear wore a handsome collar and bell. I can understand a ribbon on a lamb, but why a bell on a polar bear? Anyway he was always sagacious and stolid and good to have on your side.

Rhinosorussy (not sure how to spell that...perhaps Rhinocerous-y) was the good-natured sergeant-at-arms. He was always casting an eye at you. Slightly belligerent but, after all, fuzzy.  His horn was fuzzy too, though generously proportioned. 

I'll post some more soon...