Saturday, August 2, 2014

Bangs, Headbands, and Pancakes

     One of my favorite ways to start a day-- making excellent buttermilk blueberry pancakes from scratch.  I apparently also make excellent regular buttermilk pancakes according to popular opinion.  Blueberry anything is where it's at though; cheesecake, muffins, ice cream, pie...all delightful.  Generally, I am forcefully against photographing food, but these were not only highly palatable, they were aesthetically pleasing!

 When I was home last, I had the opportunity to make a copy of this, er, lovely, childhood photo.  I think I was 8 or 9 years-old.  One of my great-aunts died earlier this year.  As they were consolidating her belongings, they divided up the photos she had and gave them to whomever seemed appropriate.  This was especially nice for me as all of our family photos, among everything else, were destroyed in a forest fire in 2002.  That probably has something to do with my desire to collect photos, new and old.  

Never a real smile, it was always the patronizing "I hate you but have good manners" smile

I remember the headband, the bangs, and the dress.  I used to swim in the creek in that dress.  There were tiny pools 2-3 feet deep all over the place.  There was one little pool about a mile from home that I frequented.  I used to back float and stare at the sky and trees for extended periods of time, hours some days.  The sense of muffled silence the water covering my ears created was so relaxing and peaceful, so quite.  The water tends to be cold when you are at an elevation over a mile high, but I would float and spin until I felt warm as the breeze blew across the pond and my face.  I was always perplexed by that.  I would be freezing walking home, but if the wind blew or I ran, the air brushing against me felt like a warm blanket.  The air is distinctive back home.  The pine trees are very fragrant, and their resin seems to be unique in producing this.  I would float, listen, and breathe the fresh air.  If I stayed long enough, sometimes the trout in the creek would become accustomed to me, and I would feel and hear them flitting around me.  Their tails make a weird noise underwater like a bubbly splash.  Luckily I never had any water snakes slither by, that may have been the end of my swimming.  When it was time to go home or when my mom thought I should be home, our dog usually found me.  By found me I mean located me and then barreled into the creek for a swim too.  His name was Bog, and he was a border collie/German shepherd mix.  Highly intelligent, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably protective of us.  Also fond of water and car rides.  I miss him often; he died almost 10 years ago.  His name is a not so long but moderately funny story for another time.  Suffice it to say that he and the dress were an important part of fun times.  I would wear the dress again for sure.  The bangs, however, are something else entirely...                       

No comments:

Post a Comment