All historical artifacts enthrall me. Anything from the past conjures up lives lived and dreams hoped for in an age when technology was yet to overtake daily living. I am continually astonished by people who have either no interest in history whether it be on an national or international scale or simply in their own family history. I am equally enthralled to meet men and women from many walks of life who are passionate readers of the past or keepers of their own family history. Sites for would-be genealogists such as ancestry.com with their evocative advertisements and banks of information are enticing a whole new generation towards the fascinating journey of discovering their own unique roots… who knows what lies behind us all… what our ancestors accomplished, good or bad. Each of us adds to the rich tapestry of life and we carry into the future the genetics of those who have roamed the earth before us.

My materal grandmother, Evelyn was born around the turn of the century. Here she is portrayed in white muslin and lace and a walking cane for a fancy dress party. This much loved minature is so evocative of another age that I always linger before it when I’m over at the main homestead. Evelyn’s mother died of a broken heart when her beloved husband  pre-deceased her and we only have a couple of photos of her. Yet here she is below in full court dress. We still have one of her ostrich feather fans and a pair of over the elbow cream gloves that are tiny… I love history, which is why I try and incorporate it into my stories.