That same year, 1954, we came to visit. Probably at Christmas, and just in time for a substantial snowstorm. For us southern Californians, this was sufficiently a novelty that I was moved to record it with my treasured Brownie Hawkeye camera.

Here’s Brent, aged 9 or so, about to launch a snowball at me from the south end of the front porch. And yours truly, reciprocating from the north. These partial views of the (rather handsome) porch railing and of the neighboring houses helped to confirm that we had found (pax Brigham) the right place. Pappy was notably less thrilled. He’d moved to California a decade earlier, largely in order to make pictures like this harder to get.

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