This is a photograph of my great, great-grandmother when she was 18 years old. It was taken in 1884, one hundred and thirty years ago. So, I obviously can’t claim credit for it. I am just its keeper. My daughter’s name comes from this woman who I only know from this photograph.
I have a book full of these sorts of sepia toned, and then black and white, photos of my family. My grandmother, my mom’s mother, left them to me. Continue reading