The day's sweltering heat had just begun when Mailbox glimpsed his buddy Trashcan across the street. How unfair that Trashcan's work was already done! He lay on his side now, empty and blissful beneath his shade tree.
"No more waiting for the postal worker," Mailbox vowed. "No more holding letters all day under this hot sun. I don't care any more; I have stood enough!"
Mailbox leaned toward still-dewy grass as the temperature climbed. He'd had one too many red flags raised. At last he was going to take a long-coveted nap.
The fruits of foolin' with a cheap digital camera during my post office walk....
Cloud imitates tree.
At first I thought of an old railway smokestack, but the more I look at this the more I'm convinced it's a cross between a turkey and the Pillsbury doughboy.
Fallen dried palm frond.
A tree near the post office.
Mary's oakling. Last fall she picked up some fallen acorns and nurtured them through the winter. The other survivors are still indoors, in little pots.