Pat
The pictures that were never taken are the ones that come to mind when I am remembering the Lewis Ranch. I wish I had photos to show you the royal purples and golds of a field of wild iris and dandelions so thick you couldn't step without crushing more than one.
A photo of the kitchen stove and table, both in the first house and the second one, would be wonderful. You could see how big and inviting and worn the old table was and how the Majestic stove lived up to its name. Maybe you could see a pan of biscuits to the side and a pan of gravy and one of deer steak.
Or a picture of the attic where all of us kids slept. If that picture had been taken, you would have seen beds full of kids, huddled against the cold, with their feet pressed against heated rocks. You might see snow settling on top of heavy quilts and the frost on the nails in the floor.
There were pictures we never took of ball games on the diamond in front of the houses, of the old outhouse, the woodshed/coalshed/chicken house, the new fancy turnstyle type of gate they built for the fences around the houses and the floor to ceiling bookcase Daddy built for Mom.
Those pictures - the ones that never got taken - should make us think to take them in our lives right now. You never know when you might want to look at them again.,
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