Never was there a child who didn’t enjoy donning different hats. All-the-better when the hats (or dresses) belonged to your mother, or grandmother or great grandfather.
When I was little, I used to dress up in these very same dresses, and sundry other furs and jewels, and parade around the yard to the delight of my Grandmother.
This summer, the last of the Bonnells that lived in “Gramma’s house” died, when my grandfather passed on at the age of 100. But even in death there is continuity still: of family, of place, of children’s insatiable imaginations, and yes, even in a few hardy old clothes.