In the Chicken-Little Club House

where the little chickens play

my daughter entered in

and closed the door

and chose to stay.

Aside from my grandfather’s photographs, the photographs I looked at most growing up were those in the large exhibition catalog of The Family of Man exhibit, curated by Edward Steighen, first shown at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1955. That book helped form the ground for my ideals in photography, none of which I can claim to have attained.

One of the photographs that stuck with me over the years was Wynn Bullock’s Child in Forest—

possibly because I found it slightly disturbing and failed to make any sense of it.

However, when I saw Martin digging in the ball pit, I knew exactly how to photograph him.

Aunt Ev & Uncle Mike came to visit. It was wonderful!

Unfortunately, I did not get a wonderful photo.

Uncle Mike: “Hey little girl, want a teddy bear?”

Iris: “Not from you, mister.”

Aunt Ev: “Hey! Look at this cute little girl I found in the woods!”

Oh, well. Better luck next time, Jess…

Every time I make play dough for Iris, it turns out too sticky. Today I decided to try Mom’s recipe:

Notice the precise measurement for temperature and a note at the bottom. It seemed my stickiness problem could be solved! Using seaweed for coloring, I began to mix up a batch of dough. Unfortunately, when I added the spirulina, it stank to high heaven. Then I realized I don’t own any white flour. Off we went to Heather’s house… The stench of rotting carcass magically disappeared after the addition of alum. Unfortunately for Iris, I decided to see exactly what Mom meant by “tough” and decided to make the mixture too hot. Result: balls bounce and the dough is beyond the manipulation capabilities of the average two-year-old.

Not wanting the dough to go to waste entirely, I wrote a note for Martin:

Inspection of the reverse of the recipe card lead to the discovery of the exact time period to which the dough recipe can be dated:

Heather went inside to change the baby.

“Stay in the yard,” I said to Joshua and Iris.

Joshua ran. Iris chased him. When Iris caught Joshua, she waited for him to run again, then ran after.

They went to the back of the yard, out to the big field.

“Joshua! Iris! Stay in the yard!”

Joshua ran on. I watched.

Iris stood still. “Ma!” she called, slightly panicked, “Ma!”

 I went out to get them. Joshua decided that, seeing as I was following, it was fine to go further.

Iris stood by my side, terrified something might happen to Joshua.

“Go hold his hand,” I said.

She ran to him, took his hand firmly, and pulled him back to the yard.

She did not let go until they reached his mommy just as she came back out of the house.

Joshua enjoyed every minute of holding Iris’ hand.