Sort of.
No, I mean, eventually we are, to Central Florida later in the season. But in the meantime, I thought y'all would like to see some pictures of the places that leave me with a profound sense of inspiration. Seriously, I can't even look at an old house without going "this is an opportunity for...dundundun...a story."
I think I'll start with a bridge.
No really.
Isn't it amazing?
This bad boy is located in Brunswick County, VA, near where my Gramma's home in Lawrenceville, VA (which Forks Washington cannot hold a candle to in terms of smallness and middle-of-nowhere-ness.) I am seriously in love with this bridge, and I plan to use the image for a future project not related to writing at all. This bridge is amazing in any light, but you can see that the day this picture was taken, the weather was cloudy.
What's the point?
I'm not sure, but it is a gorgeous picture, thanks to Kodak and my ability to take pics under pressure while dodging other cars on a two-lane road. I owe more to the location, however, and my upbringing.
I think my life would be a tad boring if I lived in New York City or any major area. I live in a suburban/rural (yes, it can be both) area, and there is a high degree of sheer quirk every day. A lot of my job takes me into the areas outside my town and into the county. Abandoned stores and derelict (don't you love that word?) tobacco barns dot the land. My great grandmother is buried in a tiny, and I mean TINY, family cemetery out in the literal middle of nowhere, near the birthplace of William Pender (who I may or may not be related to). These types of cemeteries are everywhere, including in front of an office building in town and in the parking lot of our outdated and mostly empty shopping mall. Cemeteries, barns, bridges, and abandoned houses date back to a time when the land was not quite tame and shoes were still optional.
You want it newer?
A duct-tape basketball goal near the rough part of town, a building labeled with ancient Egyptian names and acting as a home for abandoned cars, an old vehicle leaving a doughnut in the gravel parking lot of a trailer home...oh yeah. The Kenly skating rink, a popular birthday venue when I was younger, which had cigarette burns clear through the heavy wool inner walls.
Cities are boring. The West is desolate and kinda scares me a little. I'll take the hidden, quiet settledness of the Southeastern United States.
So ask yourself, for fun, what mysteries surround this bridge that I've provided a picture of?
If you want to write for this blog, please feel free to contact me. I'd love to have you as a guest.
Tune in tomorrow for a picture of...The Tramp.
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