Watching his children and some of their friends at play in a shaded stream near Croton, N.Y., Photographer Smith, whose camera has a poet's eye, rediscovered the endless fascination with water that is fresh in every child in every generation. There are games and toys all year around, of course, but in summer there is the water. In a pool or pond or lake or sea, or even flowing by, it is always there, inviting. The water is a mystery to be solved, an excitement to the touch, something for long, long thoughts.
The hot ride is over and the smell of water is sweet...and a little girl is ready
Cool prints on a hot rock, the mark of happy feet skipping after joy and finding it in simple wetness
Running and splashing—dripping bodies tingling with delight. The trees are green, the shade is cool and peaceful—and there's water
August 31, 1958
Wet and clear, familiar certainly—but is it cold, is it good, does it hurt? The answers are important, the attitudes of a lifetime are involved. Is the water a friend?
Where does it come from—up from the bottom? Why does it hold my picture, and does the picture go clear through, all the way?
I can sit here all day and Mommy doesn't mind. I can see everybody, but they can only see my nose and my head. I can stay here all day, the water is as nice as my bed