Mary purchased this picture as a gift for us because she it tickled her fancy and I guess because the Dove is iconic. And so it became in a little way "a part of her". For many years it occupied a prime location on the first landing until Those In Control replaced it with something of Their choice and it was relegated to the loft. And then there was a grand loft clear-out.
It used to be said that there were three initiation rites for those who would become members of this community. The first was to endure turkey plucking, yea verily to actually enjoy it. Every Christmas a team would go to a neighbouring farm and pluck untold numbers of turkeys. Some of our young people could pluck several per hour. I went a just couple of times: the stench was diabolical, I could hardly stand it. My contribution was not more that one turkey in the whole day. Otherwise I did my best to be very busy with other stuff when turkey plucking came around.
The second was to endure our annual convention and the third was to endure a visit from my Aunt Mary. But she wasn't all bad. Just a little embittered around the edges from life's experiences. The war that took the man she loved, and in her later life her subjection to her parents which ended in nursing her mother until she died of cancer. After her parent's death she continued to live in the family home... well, you can read about the gory details here.
I found the picture sans frame in a pile on its way to the trash and managed to take a few photos, but on inspecting them realised I needed to try harder to reduce reflections. But when I went back the picture had gone. Such is community. A good thing I am not sentimental about such things.
You will see the glass is mirrorred around the border, and the picture itself is embossed so that the reflection changes as the viewer moves position. So here's the best I can do as a testimony to Aunt Mary's life. I can only apologise for the bit of me (holding the camera) that is visible.
