What a lovely coincidence that these three things all fell into place the way they did:
-a view of the Split Rock Lighthouse
-which was right there at the wide spot in the road
-where the trees were short enough to not block the view
The odds of that happening must have been astronomical!
Split Rock Lighthouse, Minnesota
I am not even kidding – there must have been 5,000 dishes at this place, an open air antique/junk place beside the highway. To their credit, the owners had done a lovely job of organizing their inventory; all the matching china was together, all the green Depression glass had its own table, beer steins were grouped together, and so forth. At night, the tarps by the tables were flipped across the merchandise and secured with big clamps.
Actual conversation in the car as we drove by:
Me: What the hell is THAT?
Patient Spouse, in a bit of a weary tone: I’ll turn around.
Beaver Bay, Minnesota
Boats. The Patient Spouse is from people who have boats. Boats are critical to their social standing, their recreational choices, their very self worth. I guess – I actually don’t know, because I come from the No Boat People, the group that thinks it’s hilarious to tell that old joke about the two happiest days of a boat owner’s life*, over and over and over.
But anyway, there’s no denying the Patient Spouse’s attraction to boats, which is how we found this enclave of out-of-water vessels. But you know that I was really looking at the clouds, and that the boats were just a convenient thing to have in the front of the image…
Silver Bay, Minnesota
*The day they buy it, and the day they sell it. Hilarious, right?
So, maybe people give me That Look when I take my camera with me to a restroom. And maybe those same people would never even notice how lovely the inside of this restroom was. That’s on them, and I’ll keep taking my camera with me.
But – and you’ll just have to trust me on this – if there are other people in the restroom, I won’t take a picture. Because that’s just weird.