Well, you know, with another fine shower of rain this morning and cool air, freshened by that rain, how can I complain? I can't. I had my morning coffee in my garage, surrounded by memorabilia going back almost fifty years. It's a place where I spent happy hours. I don't do very much in there now. I feel too old and too much has changed. I love my workbench and all the tools and the stocks of lumber, and some of the things I constructed, gathering dust. My father had a garage/workshop, a very old structure, and after he died I felt his presence there every time I entered. I think his heart and soul were in that garage. I think my own heart and soul, to the extent I ever had such things (it's questionable) might be in my own garage/workshop. If not there then certainly diffused throughout the gardens. I had an insight this morning, in that garage. I'm always open to an insight. That was gratifying.
It's pretty obvious that I have an affinity for old and abandoned structures, and things that have been cast off-- anything discarded or used up, worn out, junked, speaks to me.
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