Posts Tagged ‘childhood


Imagination of bygone days…

“Every summer, like the roses, childhood returns.” Marty Rubin….Sometimes, I can recall being a playful, imaginative child caught up in pretending games…I can connect to the memory, but not the emotions.


Better times….

‘Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!’ Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers



playing…do you remember?

“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein

So long ago…pretending, seeing what was not there, but in my mind, our minds. Play, movement, focus upon the vision in our head. Inspection, questions, energy and  movement. That spark of a child is a very vague, fluttering movie in the dark recesses of my mind. It makes me smile. Is it still a place to escape to?

girl farm pond CKH SwittersB Photography


What was…..

“How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.” Theodore Roethke

old chair-porch swing-vintage-photography-SwittersB


Little Red Wagon: Cynics or Fanciful

“Love is like the little red toy wagon you get for your Christmas or your sixth birthday. It makes you deliriously happy and you just can’t leave it alone. But sooner or later the wheels come off. Then you leave it in a corner and forget it. Falling in love is great. Being in love is a disaster”  Mario Puzo (Fools Die)


‘Won’t you ride in my little red wagon
I’d love to pull you down the street
And I know all the kids will be jealous
When they see my playmate so sweet

Hold tight till we come to the hilltop
Going to coast down the hill, you and me
Won’t you ride in my little red wagon
For you are my sweetheart to be…..’

Willie Nelson

wagon-radio flyer-rust-photography-SwittersB

I recently found this Radio Flyer buried beneath briars and boards. Cynics would say trash it. No, I never had a little, red wagon as a kid. I will hold onto the wagon, touch it up a bit and give it a safe place in the garden. Somethings, scarred and rusted up, are worth rebuilding and enjoying. I am too old to be flying down any hill though.


The Garden Shed: Magical or Scary?

“It was just a weathered garden shed,
In the shadow of a tree,
With faded boards and sagging door,
But a wonderment to me.”

The Garden Shed by David Pekrul


Do you remember the garden shed as a child? Was it dark, full of cobwebs and that certain smell of the earth and aging wood? Or clean, well lit and functional? No one in my neighborhood had anything but mysterious, dark, earthy smelling sheds. I recall stealing a kiss from a neighbor girl in a garden shed. It was all so mysterious and secretive then.


Photography: These Old Stairs…..

Stairs Moms SwittersBMore often than not we are looking ahead in time, barely living in the moment and briefly looking back in regret. Often when we look back it is only with our mind’s eye. But, perhaps if one is still, takes the time and looks at say these stairs…one could recall so much of what transpired up, on and down these stairs at the front of a childhood home.

Running and leaping up and down the stairs when you trusted the power in your young legs…playing with toy cars on the incline and imagining a bigger world in your fertile mind…sitting alone and waiting for neighborhood kids to come home in order to have a playmate…watching people parking a car at the curb and climbing the stairs to visit Mom…sweeping up leaves from the corners or watching the drifting snow climb the edges…guiding my elderly Mom up or down the stairs…elated moments in life…somber moments in life…selling the family home and walking down those stairs one last time.

Below @ “The Past” you can search back to 2008 month by month

March 2020

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