A Duck Break

I dd a quick search of my measly collection of albums for photos of Dad. Most of the photos are in boxes in the top of the closet and I just could not "go there." Dad died in 1996--pre-digital photography (I know, seriously, film, negatives, processing, prints..) but I found a couple to share. I realized that in the past years, I've been focused on Mom. But when Kent was home, he started reading Dad and Mom's letters written during the war

and it shifted my focus back to them as a couple, as parents and grandparents.


I love this photo with Lukas. This was taken on a day they had been baling. At Mom's funeral, Lukas shared about his memories of baling. Now he knows how early it started. I can almost smell my dad--a combination of sweat and fresh hay. But he always put out his arms to hold a baby or take hold of a small hand.

Or feed a calf