Going to Grandma's-A Photographic Excursion

Growing up, the only home I knew my grandparents to have was a tiny farm house in central Texas on the Colorado River. Beautiful, idyllic landscapes full of sweeping dioramas of beauty. Green was everywhere. The farm teemed with life. Goats, cows, and our stubborn pony were just the beginning. In the morning, you would wake to the hollering of the peacocks, and if you were so inclined to step outside in the chilly autumn morning, you would see the males' arcs of tail feathers. An amazing sight. Then the guinea hens would come around, the dogs, the cats... the chickens, geese, and ducks. My memories of this early time period are like snapshots in and of themselves. Impressions of light and movement, energy, but with the stark silence that comes only so far from civilization. The "farm" was 17 miles outside the nearest town-which had only 1800 residents. Six of these miles were treacherous dirt road. It was a path, really, in these days of golden sunlight. Insulation from the "real" world.

Now, many things have changed. I am an adult, as are my sisters of course-and I have two nephews. My mother is remarried, my step dad is really my dad, and the farm that has always been there, was sold 3 months ago. Mom is still living out there, until the house in town-the same oh-so-tiny town, is completed. It has been nearly five years since my grandparents moved into town, in an equally historic home. Though, that home's history is not part of our history, the way the farm is. Papa's father built is the farm house, after a huge flood. But, that place in my history will soon be someone else's. And  they will get a husk of what it once was. Year after year of drought and neglect has changed the land, brown over rules green and dust is over it all. Taking photos at the farm was my first really dedicated time to make photos after my lifelong interest in photography bloomed into a passion. Looking at them now, they tug my heartstrings. When the photographs were taken there was the feeling of this place, having always been, would continue to be a part of my life and a part of my future. Soon, it will be a memory, much like the "snapshots" I had as a child.





The House

3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom of fun and games. WIth a basement and remodeled (well, in the 80s ish) kitchen. A very interesting juxtapositon of antiquity and modernity. A basement that regularly floods and high speed internet.





The View from the Swing

We had various swings in this tree growing up. Usually those adventures would start with one of us being the ringleader to Get Er Done. Sometimes it was a rope and tire swing, sometimes we put on shows for the family, complete with hors d'ourves. Sometimes it was a raid on the fabric stash to make some crazy, useless, and probably never finished concoction.

I must say though, I believe my creativity was fostered there in a big way-the serenity and comfort allowed me to express and experiment with out fear of judgement.




The Slide

This was the slide we played on as kids. Once, we took a baby goat (Peggy Sue) up to the top. Needless to say she did make the 14 foot fall. But survived!



Kerosene and Tractor Equipment

Avoiding tripping over old tractor or other types of heavy equipment was a dance we all learned to do, and very quickly. I do have memories of stepping on a nail at one point, my sisters each had the same experience! Wearing flip flops and tromping around in the country isn't a good plan!

The "Tank"

Fish? yep.

Pirhanas? Maybe.

And lots, and lots of mud!




She's Gone Country

This is the current state of affairs on the Farm. Brown, dusty land with mesquite trees and cacti to show for it. But, when it is unexpected, you will find beauty in it!





The Gate

This is one of my favorite photos I have taken, and the first that made use of the capabilities of the camera to shoot and have fuzzy and strictly in focus in the same frame. Much love for my camera!





The Goat's Climbing Tree

The cistern out in the front of the barn, in the foreground of this photo, has always been there. I really must ask about it's history-I am sure it came from somewhere else! That tree was struck by lightening many years ago, and the tree split. Later, it was struck again and that right hand branch was broken off. Lighting does strike twice if the target is ideal-there are no other trees near this one! The Spanish and the Boer goats were avid climbers, getting as high in this particular tree as it was possible to have their weight supported. I guess mountain goats really can climb if those breeds can!

*****

My Papa passed away several years ago, but Grandma is still going strong. We are blessed.

What are your fondest memories of visiting family?