I talked with Florence several times before she died. She was very proud of her farmhouse and her glass collection. I met her in my incessant prowlings around old farms. She was gracious, funny, knowledgeable about many things. Her glass speaks for her, and for the privilege of knowing her. These things will be gone soon, taken by friends and family, or auctioned off, or given away, and house house will be sold. I see many things when I look in Florence’s window, and mostly I see life.

When people see these photos, they tend to think of mothers and grandmothers, people of a different time who valued their things, took care of them, and left them behind as prized echoes and memories.