A final visit to Black Creek Pioneer Village at the week’s end.
The colours are desaturated and warmed up a bit — gives the pics a nostalgic feel.
And I don’t know what comes first — faded pictures or faded memories.
Occasionally thoughts of my own childhood or my father’s family farm are dim as they’re replaced by more immediate and pressing and ultimately inconsequential challenges of the every day.
This little fellow’s grandfather remembers the very day the Germans invaded his family’s hometown in northern Italy.
My father always gives thanks for living in a country where freedom — religious, cultural, racial — is taken for granted.
Where we watch our children romp without fear.
Where women’s clothing is a personal choice.
Where evidence of our past has not been destroyed by deadly ordnance.
Where the rain falls and the sun shines in balance.
Where a child can be a child.
Amen, Dad.
When are you coming for a visit?
The Country Mice 
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