|Photo source unknown––my apologies. It is in a computer file of mine.|
This woman reminds me of Mrs. Waty Taylor, who lived most of her life in the old Cape––painted pink to suit her––across from our New Hampshire farmhouse. She baked pies each week and the best New England style baked beans, and brought them to my grandmother, and later to us, and she always wore an old feed sack bib apron. For many years she was a cook at the Woodbound Inn down on the lake.
There was a kindness in Mrs. Taylor's face but also the weariness of many years and inevitable sorrows. She awoke with the rising sun and was in bed by the time it set: many winter mornings she had her lights blazing early but rarely would you see them on of an evening. We liked to check on her or visit and she was so good to our oldest daughter when she was a young girl. Mrs. Taylor liked her house and you rarely saw her out of it: she would visit, briefly, on our farm and always seemed to want to return to her own home.
Every woman has a time of longing: perhaps for another time or favorite people or past memories. So much of our lives are spent in the day-to-day, whatever it is, that sometimes we just forget to pause and look out the window. Maybe this woman sees something or maybe she is lost in thought.
What do you see in this photograph?
You come back when you're ready!