Yes, that's the footnoteMaven on her steady steed, but for the life of me I can't remember the horses' name. From the picture you can tell I am not a cowgirl, but a farm girl. Dad used this horse to plow and it wasn't a horse that would get away from you. While he worked he'd thrown the little ones on and we would sit there for hours, going nowhere; just spending time with Dad and our imagination.
I do remember the day these photographs were taken. As you can see a storm was brewing. Mother was worried about the neighbor, "Mrs. Mary," who lived on the farm across the road. She sent Dad off to check on her.
I remember pushing a chair up to the kitchen sink, climbing up so I could see out the window, and watching Dad gallop off across the field. No saddle, he looked as if he was holding the horses' mane and going a hundred miles an hour. You can see looking at the horse a hundred miles an hour was obviously from the point of view of a child. The horse had never seen a hundred miles an hour.
Mrs. Mary was fine, but we had quite a storm. I waited on the chair for Dad to return. I remember the lightning as he rode up to the house and Mom shaking her head wondering out loud why he couldn't just take the car.
In each of these pictures you can see the family dog. One of many in a long line of Beagles that were working dogs as well as pets.
Every Sunday morning Dad, the dog, and the shotgun went out to bring home Sunday dinner.
"Hassenpfeffer," Mom would announce before she put the meal on the table.
Hassenpfeffer indeed! No fooling me, I knew a rabbit when I saw one.
Happy Father's Day Dad - the memories will always be good ones!
Maven On Horse. Photograph. 1952. Privately held by the footnoteMaven, [ADDRESS FOR PRIVATE USE,] Preston, Washington. 2008.
Maven and Biblio On Horse. Photograph. 1952. Privately held by the footnoteMaven, [ADDRESS FOR PRIVATE USE,] Preston, Washington. 2008.