There is something so nostalgic and wonderful about old school mailboxes out in the farm communities.
Technically I’m on vacation for two weeks, but there were a few fish left to spawn out at Cultus and there were also few bodies to deal with them. So when I was asked if I wold help, I said yes, because, for me anyway, fish do come first.
The traffic was light this morning, or maybe I was just driving too fast…I won’t tell….but I reached Yarrow a little earlier than planned so took the opportunity to waste a little bit of time by driving a circuitous route to look for interesting things that might make an interesting photo.
Rural mailboxes.
I love them.
Growing up, as now, my mail comes to my door and is placed in a mailbox on the wall.
Both sets of grandparents lived in a rural setting, one with a farm, the other with an orchard. But their mail didn’t go to a mailbox at the door, or even at the edge of their driveway like these.
Granny and Grandad’s mail went to a box in the teeny tiny post office in Canoe, and Grandma and Grandpa’s…I think…went to a community mailbox like the ones that are more and more common today, pretty much everywhere.
But these old battered boxes, particularly the one here that looks like an old can, make me smile.
Oh, and we are finally done with the Early Stuart and Bowron River sockeye that were brought down from the Big Bar slide site. A resounding success.
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