Evelyn Cameron, an early Montana photographer, chronicled her daily life meticulously in diaries and letters. My mother and grandmother did the same and now their diaries and letters are now stacked neatly in my home. As mundane as the daily facts can be, it is these facts that keep these women alive for me. To know that on July 29th in 1897 Evelyn Cameron “Arose 6. Breakfast 8. Washed up. Got off at 10. Ewen on Pilot, I on Steel, Payne on Buttermilk, Kid on a "Cross S" horse…” And that in August of 1953, the day I was born, my grandmother picked beans and mowed the front lawn. These women continue to be real and present for me through these pages. Is this why I continue the tradition? Am I placing myself within this line of women?
