What's in a picture?

First you have to look closely at this picture. Then take a tour with me.

This is my Mom. Uncharacteristically, she is so happy she's crying. Not uncharacteristic for her to be happy, but for her to be crying. She was a brave and forthright person who created her world to suit her and didn't spend time crying.

Look at the picture again. Mom is wearing a mink stole and showing off a lovely bracelet and earrings, all of which my Dad gave her for Christmas that year. Although used to wonderful gifts from my Dad, this Christmas he really hit the spot. And she cried. I don't think it was for the money Dad spent, although he really went overboard, but for the love and caring he put into choosing such thoughtful gifts for her. I know she felt the most special woman in the world. I cherish the memories of my parents together and their love for each other.

Another look at the picture and your eyes go to the china cabinet with antique family silver pieces inside and my grad pic from university on top, beside the silver chest. Today that china cabinet sits in my living room, filled with some of the same silver pieces and I have that picture back again, hanging on my wall. I also have my silver in a large silver chest in my dining room, just like Mom had. Funny how we emulate our parents.

And out the window you see snow. That was our front room window at the side of the house. I remember lots of views out there, of the gravel laneway by which we little ones watched Daddy come and go, our noses barely able to clear the wooden sills, pressing little nose-circles in the steamy glass. In summer we could see the huge garden covering as much space as my whole large house lot today. I hated working in that garden and I don't like it much better now. Memories of happy times there still crowd into my mind, though, and I smile at the thought of Ross hanging on to Maudie's mane as she tore--and bore him!--around that garden. And I remember my 4-H garden which I grew there one year with kohl rabi, a new vegetable we didn't even know how to cook, and many other excellent plants. I think Mom was heartened to think this was one year she wouldn't have to work so hard doing a job she hated, too, as the garden was my 4-H project. We were very much alike.

Do you notice the window sill? It holds a model cow, a hint to the business that fed us, that shaped our lives, that set the daily timetable my whole growing-up life. My dad was a farmer and a self-made one at that. He came from nothing. Did whatever it took to gradually build a life on the farm for his ever-growing family--eventually there were 13 children--and it all settled around Holsteins. That cow on the window is an award from some competition or other. I remember the cow, just not the exact award.

Above the cow is a Christmas wreath. We put those wiry, prickly things up every year. They were special to us, signifying a season of family fun, visitors, toys and feasting. When I look at them now, in antique stores sometimes, I remember a time when we didn't have everything we wanted, when consumerism hadn't taught us all to want ever more and more, and when we were overjoyed with what little we got. Those ugly, hard wreaths in green and red meant fun to us and we loved the season signified by them.

So you see that one 'snap', as we called photos then, reallys says a lot to me. It takes me back to people and places, things and feelings far beyond what is actually in the picture. It holds love in its four corners. It reminds me of my roots and my happy childhood. Would that everyone could have that!