Houston, we have a problem...Life on Mars looks eerily familiar.

I have been informed that I was "picture-tagged." At first, I was a bit wary, wondering if it was some new, "you-can-run-but-you-can't-hide," type of personal identification. (Again, that Orwell-ian paranoia...I'm telling you, you never really get over it. It is like seeing the old, original "Psycho" for the first time and having to take baths instead of showers for about a year. Maybe that was just me, but, seriously..."Mother's not herself today"? I've known a lot of Mama's boys, but that is just bordering on..., well, psycho...Hmmm, now that I've reached that intellectual height, we'll move on...) I was told I had to go to the fourth folder in my pictures, and post the fourth picture (along with an explanation). This is the result, for better or worse. It is my young cousin Drayton, standing in the back yard of what is affectionately called the "White House." This would be the home-place of great-grandparents, which was bought and restored, and where our family get-togethers (commonly called "reunions," but that seems to have acquired a bad connotation, and we have way too much fun, so it is a get-together), weddings, wedding receptions, etc. occur. We were preparing for another cousin's reception (there are masses of cousins), and so I had politely removed myself to the yard to get out of the way, and take some pre-guest photos of the decorations. Drayton was outside, fascinated by the bubble machine strategically placed in an inconspicuous corner, which he (of course) immediately located. As all children are drawn to stagnant, possibly malarial water, he was drawn by the magnetic forcefield of this stone fountain. He and I were the only two occupants of the yard at the time, so we enjoyed a brief water-fight (until his mother stuck her head out the back door and screamed "Drayton Robert, if you don't get out of that water this minute...!!!" And, as there is nothing more petrifying than an open ended threat, the fight ended abruptly in a stalemate. Even though I was seventeen or eighteen at the time, I didn't volunteer the information that I was the instigator. "Think fast enough, and you might live to lie about it...") and then he suddenly became transfixed by the airborne bubbles. You can see a few clinging to the surface of the water. It was fortunate that I got this shot; the fountain was under a thick stand of trees, and so was quite dark, but there was an instant when the wind shifted the leaves just enough to allow a shaft of sunlight to fall directly on him. I have to say, this is one of my favorites. The serenity of the little face, and the setting, all seem to be of another place. There is an element of imagination-bred landscape to it. (All of which had nothing to do with me, by the way. I'm not taking any credit, I just happened to be in an opportune spot at the right moment.) I even had a copy matted and framed, I enjoy this one so much; it has a calming effect to me. So, that is my story...not very entertaining, but it has good memories for me.