WPC: on the way

oneMy husband and I are road warriors. We travel a lot by car. It’s certainly not because it’s a cheap way to travel any more, but once upon a time it was. Still, old habits die hard, and we like to just hop in the car and go. See where the road leads us. Have adventures. Why not?

I’m usually riding shotgun with a camera, and taking desperate shots of the scenery zipping past. By the time I can communicate my desire to pull over, the photo opportunity is long past. I’m okay with it. I just got a better camera, and every once in a while, I get a fairly decent shot at high speed. It’s rare, but it happens.

I took this picture in the Alabama countryside on the way to a beach vacation in Florida. We travel this route all the time, and I am always taken by the weathered buildings, so often abandoned, but full of charm and history. I wish I knew the families who once lived there and used those buildings. Most are out building –barns and garages, but every so often there’s a farmhouse, and it begs to be recorded. To be remembered.

three

broken fence, beautiful scene

cardinalMy neighbor’s fence finally broke after a hard winter. The nice gentleman who lived next door took meticulous care of his yard. He planted beautiful flowers and grew fruit and vegetables. And always, he was diligent with the upkeep of the fence. In later years, he struggled to replace posts, and a few times, my husband or son would see him wrangling with a loose post. They would walk over and take on the heavier part of the task, all the while talking and sharing the work in a friendly way. When the gentleman passed away some years ago, his children and grand children took over the care of the yard. They didn’t have the same regard for the fence, and eventually, it broke in several places.

I never minded the broken fence. When it started to rot and fall apart, I loved it more. I thought it had character. The birds and squirrels still enjoyed it. I suppose it still kept the neighborhood kids from cutting across the yard. Just because it was old and broken didn’t mean it had lost its usefulness and beauty. It was just…different.

sun-kissed strawberries

strawberriesI’ve always thought I had a brown-thumb and rarely tried to grow anything because of it. Why? I’d kill it eventually. It turns out, I just needed the time, and the interest in making things happen. Wanting a pretty garden means sweating and weeding.

Isn’t that true of everything in life?

The forces of nature sometimes get in the way of this success. But all the recent rain, although dreary and often inconvenient, has produced all kinds of lush growth in the backyard. The strawberry patch is out of control. Out of control!

I love to sit on the porch with my husband after dinner and survey the crop. It’s amazing to see a big green berry one day, and the next day, watch it turn bright red, sweetened by the sun’s kisses.

Kisses can do that, doncha know.

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