Seeing a Theme in the Guest Bedroom

 O Pioneers!

While Mark and Juliet were here visiting, my stepson asked about this picture, remarking that it had hung in every place his Dad and I had ever lived. I told him it was cut from the Des Moines Register in the mid 1960's and given to me by a friend who had enlarged the orignal newsprint drawing for me because I had spoken about identifying with pioneer women. I recall that I had read a story about a woman living on the treeless expanse of the prairie who thought she would lose her mind if she couldn't see a tree. So one day she set out to walk until she found one, ending up many miles from her home.

The story left an impression on me which I have never forgotten and have always associated with this framed pioneer woman even though she is obviously in search of water, not a tree. Though trees almost always grow where there is water. 

This morning I took another look at the pictures in that room and realized how monochromatic they all are. This photo of me and my little sister with our buggy and horse Queenie which was taken during threshing at our neighbor's farm and appeared in The Villisca Review newspaper.

And this 'mystery' picture which we found in Mom's closet after she died. I had never seen it before; don't know where it came from nor why she had it.

But I love it so much.

And then there is this small black and white "Part of the Team!" clipping from a paper or magazine that I have taped to a mirror above the chest of drawers.

It makes me think of my Grandma Lynam and photos I've seen of her as a young wife on the farm.

This is an actual photo of Grandma with my father, Louis, as a child with a team of horses near the barn.

Obvious why the above picture makes me think of her, isn't it?

While some may find the spare room decor boring, I find it very soothing.

Another 'pioneer' picture which hangs in the hallway. This one was also given to me by friends who recognized my propensity for pioneer life.

Much as I used to imagine being a pioneer woman headed west along the Oregon Trail, it was on a visit to Ash Hollow State Park in Nebraska and seeing this replica sod house there and the terribly sharp descent the wagons had to make down Windlass Hill, that I realized I could never have really been a pioneer. 

Or could I?