Brown and Ivory Corduroy Shirt

Taken in Colorado

Lydia's Easter Dress

Though it's hard to see, the skirt has a wrap-around effect, and ripples up to the large bow at the left side just below the hem of the jacket.

Victoria's Red Coat with Navy Velvet Collar & Cuffs

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Friday, October 25, 2002

Because I finished her coat last night, Victoria was able to wear it to school today, and she even presented it as her Show-and Tell Exhibition, she was so pleased with it.  I attached a navy velvet bow to a red fleece hat I'd made for Lydia about three years ago, and, surprisingly enough, the red fleece matched the red chino (if that's what it is) quite well.

Hester & Victoria's Easter Dresses

Lydia's Easter Suit

Someday, I'll find the full-length picture in one of my old albums, scan it, and add it to this post.

Lydia was 9, and very pleased to have a suit, as opposed to a 'little girl's dress', as she said.

Victoria, Thanksgiving

Victoria at Marblehead Lighthouse

Victoria, with Lydia in the background.  Hester took this picture.  

Here's a little excerpt from my letter of July 31, 2000, when we were in Ohio:

*     *     *

After crossing over Sandusky Bay on the Bay Bridge, we drove around Marblehead Peninsula, stopping to see Marblehead Lighthouse.  This lighthouse has been in continuous service longer than any other lighthouse.  Construction was completed in 1822, and it’s been working ever since.  As we walked nearer, we could see people far above us, walking around the light up at the top, holding the railing.  We headed for the door.

It was a big old wooden door, painted green~~and it was stuck.  I pushed on it, succeeding in getting it open a few inches…  I braced my feet and determinedly pushed.

What I didn’t know was that the lighthouse keeper was trying to shut and lock the door from the other side.  He pulled it open, looking a bit disgruntled at this persistent tourist who wouldn’t take no for an answer~~and I, still shoving with all my might and main, nearly tumbled in onto his feet.

I gathered myself together and grinned at him.

“Oops,” said I.  “Sorry!”

He quit looking peeved and laughed.  “The last tour went up at 4:30,” he told me.  “I’m just locking the door; you can come back tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.”

Four-thirty.  We were fifteen minutes too late, and ‘tomorrow’ would find us 500 miles farther west.  But I thanked him, and we trekked off to the rocky shores of Lake Erie, where we used up handfuls of film and a good deal of energy clambering about on the boulders.  Whitecaps sparkled snowy white in the sunlight, and breakers crashed against the rocks at our feet.  Boats in the distance rose and fell on the waves, and sea gulls wheeled overhead, their cries drifting down like tinkling chimes.

Nearby, a friendly black man reeled in the twentieth fish he and his wife had caught, and tossed it into a five-gallon bucket with some of the others he was keeping.  Caleb, wanting to look into the bucket, and feeling timid about doing so, crept closer…closer…closer…and then he jerked back quickly and almost fell between the rocks he was jumping, for one of the fish slapped its tail so vigorously it sprayed water all over him.

In the village of Lakeside, we stopped at a gift shop and purchased a few souvenirs, including magnets with a picture of the lighthouse on them.