by Dawn Farmer
When I took this picture what caught my eye was the disorderly nature of this row of mailboxes. It appeared that despite efforts at uniformity the owners just could not pull off a clean organized row. I captured the image and went on my walk.
Encountering this photo last week I saw something very different. This time the grouping had a sad melancholy feel. The exuberance of disordered anticipation replaced with a quaint antique feel. Newspaper holders for product no longer delivered, fancy large mailboxes that receive only junk mail and bills, and an efficient line that means the mailman/woman doesn’t even interact with you anymore.
It’s a scene in America I hadn’t expected to feel so old fashioned within my own life time.