“There was a photo studio in
Greenwood (our nearest ‘big town’)
called Spurriers. Absolutely everyone
in a thirty mile radius or more went there
to be photographed. At Spurriers they brought
out a dusty bunch of flowers and stuck them
in your lap. Your mother would have dressed
you in your fanciest frock. I had had an
illness with high fever the winter before,
and my hair had come out curly. My curls
gradually grew out, to my mother’s dismay.
The flowers were prickly.”