Cold and rainy and raw. I’m holed up and snuggled in, stocked up on tea, strawberries, and a roast. It was 28 in Orlando last night. The local news notes that alcohol sales are up. I was moved to dig out an old photo album last night, and found in it a few shots of Walter and friends, circa mid-70s. I was in my twenties and in NY by then, but would sometimes summer back in Michigan. We shot mostly slidefilm in those days, so prints are few and far between...
I touch up Walter's faded cormorants
Joseph offers an observation
My Cezanne hat
View to the east
House, back door
Beautiful doomed Bo, gathering eggs at our Easter egg hunt one snowy April.
Speaking of April, in the excavation I unearthed this birthday mailgram sent to me at the farm from Hetta (Mrs. William) Empson. William and Walter were friends during Walter's years abroad, and the Empsons visited the farm on occasion.
Hetta and I hit it off. Her fabulousness was beyond compare.
Shastri, Joseph, and Agatha
When I went out this morning I could see my breath. I haven’t seen my breath in years. It was oddly exhilarating, seeing that living puff of steam... a confirmation that I exist.