The mittens and I are thinking things over. I have resolved the how-many and how-to pick up stitches for the thumbs and have even begun to knit one. I'm not sure it's big/wide enough -- or maybe I'm knitting too tightly on such a small circumference. There are plenty of things to think about.
Meanwhile, I found the 4x5 negatives of the photos that Cousin Char is seeking. I'm sure I had extra prints made, but either they're stored elsewhere or I gave them all away. According to the photo finisher's envelope, that was all the way back in 1992.
This is one that she requested, and it's one of my favorite photos ever (yes, there are many) -- there are so many reasons why, but mainly...
Meet Sarah Nutting (Drake) Hopp, my great great grandmother. My grandma (far right in the photo) called her "The Methodist" -- not just "A" Methodist, Sarah was "The" Methodist; Grandma, herself, was only "A" Methodist. Yeah, when Sarah was around, she ruled -- whether it was her true domain or not. No card-playing, no dancing, don't even think about drinking. What a presence she must have been. She scares the shit out of me even now. And yet, I'm completely mesmerized by her and if time travel is ever possible, she's on my list.
That's little Harry on her lap, happy as a clam -- oblivious to the force that holds him. Charlie, on the other hand, is feeling it -- he isn't giving off much of a warm-and-fuzzy vibe. A wonderful study in contrast and body language, those three.
Harry was born in late 1915, so this must be summer 1916, in Mason City or maybe Brooklyn, Iowa, probably just before my great grandparents moved their young family to the farm in central Wisconsin. Sarah would have just had (or maybe this was) her 70th birthday.