Most people call it bed head. Such a tame nomenclature for something that was more like a tornado of hair. Knots of curls on her left side, a little bit of Shirley Temple in that one spot, and a lone ringlet that kept getting in her eyes, Her eyes betrayed that she still lived in sleepy land and her brain couldn't quite get over the hill into reality yet. I reveled in this moment, knowing in a few minutes, little miss sleepy would be turning her stormy head to the destruction of peace.
Four children from a hippie commune walking through the woods with their sticks. Photograph by John Olson. Sunny Valley, Oregon, USA, 1969. (Little before my time...but like a snapshot from my childhood :)