Walking down memory lane

I haven't accomplished much today. This happens every time I start going through old boxes of pictures and keepsakes. I find pictures I had totally forgotten about; I read letters written to my mother before I was born, and even some of her school papers from the 1920's, much of it nibbled on by mice until you can't make anything out. I make myself throw lots of things away because you just can't keep everything.

Cliff and our son Jimmy (now aged 41) mowing the yard.
Jim, standing in the baby crib that's behind me now, as I type this. The baby crib I can't make myself get rid of.
That's a very young me. A farmer used to give me his orphan lambs to raise. I had a nice little flock started... three females and a male... until the neighbor's German Shepherds killed them one night.
Yes, I did use a wringer washing machine back in the early 1970's. My daughter has some bubbles on her head in this picture, put there by her brother. Pedal harder, Jimmy!
That's Cliff's youngest sister (the one we ride motorcycles with these days) and my son on our first milk cow, Suzie. Nothing shook Suzie up. Nothing.

Has it really been so long ago? How did I get this old? I still remember what it felt like to hold my children in my arms.

I need to stay out of those boxes.