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Note reads, “Threshing oats at home. November 1942.” If you’re in west-central Minnesota, go see this done live at Rollag starting today.
Note reads, “Threshing oats at home. November 1942.” If you’re in west-central Minnesota, go see this done live at Rollag starting today.
Baby dressed nicely, sitting in a rose garden; appears to be 1930s. (more here)
Who’s that behind the tree? Why, it’s Mrs. Pfeiffer! Helene and her mother visited a nursery for a fine day outside, and that rapscallious Mrs. Pfeiffer brought levity to their day by composing very difficult riddles and singing scandalous bar-room tunes she learned from a set of Victrola records her husband borrowed from the Lodge and hid under his humidor. Or so I gather from two photos taken a hundred years ago — I may be reading a bit too much into it.
I also enjoy this photo for the excellent white-birch bench surrounding the tree. The arm-rests are arranged as an ‘x’, allowing open seating on all sides. I can’t see how it’s fastened together, but it seems sturdy enough — as a bench in a nursery, the raw-woo, bark and all, has a great beauty to partake, when walking through the gardens with your mother and that pernacious Mrs. Pfeiffer.
Don’t look now, Helene, but your fishing excursion isn’t going to get very far. Helene sent a copy of this photo to Marie (along with several others), probably because Marie was along on this girls-day-out. It’s sure good she’s near shore, though; unswamping a canoe in a long dress and snazzy hat would be quite difficult. Helene doesn’t appear too nonplussed — she’s got a few other canoes behind her to pick from.
Whistler’s Mother (otherwise known as Arrangement in Gray and Black No. 1) is an iconic image in our culture, recalling a Victorian silence and respectability. Mrs. Melby’s Mother, above, spent Halloween 1960 at a bowling alley. My, how times change is a little less than a century! Not quite as much as you may think, though — the style of dress is similarly modest, although Mrs. Melby has gone stocking-free and is showing a little ankle. Her chair is similarly spartan, although anyone who attended a high school built earlier than 1960 is probably intimately familiar with such folding seats; many a small finger has been bit by those steel hinges while screwing around during an oh-so-important school assembly in the auditorium.