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I have recently discovered Pinterest.  Such an amazing site. People save all kinds of things on boards, kind of like a digital cork board.  You can find recipes, crafts, home repair projects, all kinds of things.  The stuff I love to look at are the pictures people post. 

I have a few favorite categories.  One is old house, another, abandoned cars, yet another old cemeteries.  Of course anyone who has been following my blogs knows I have an affinity with trees for some reason.  I can find all of this in one place on line. 

I created one board, I call inspiration.  I “pin” pictures of things that kindle a spark of imagination for me.  Take the photo above.  Such a forlorn and lost rail line.  Tracks to nowhere, in the middle of nothing.  My mind starts going in all different directions with things like this.  The creative juices are certainly flowing.20383a2b820209a3bce694867bfa4fa8

How about this abandoned playground.  I can almost here the laughter of children as they play.  whisking down the long forgotten slides, running back and forth and then playing with the tire swing.  Perhaps the bird is the only living thing to remember such a time.  Even the tree has outlived it’s usefulness and gone the way the phantoms. 

Of course, one can’t forget staircases.  Is there any place more frightening 3ae6f09cd78d6e3a294ff26106c1efadthan a strange and creepy staircase.  Where does it go, and who has been… is on it, where did they come from.  The ghosts speak to me, at least I find it easier to call the voices in my head ghosts.  Perhaps that way I’m not in such dire need of physiological intervention.  I have to admit, I sometimes question my own sanity when it comes to things like this.  I suppose, it is the way of the romantic, and I certainly am a dreamer. 

Now, I was saying… trees hold a special place in my heart.  I’m not really sure why, but I feel a connection to them for some reason.  Whether it’s and ancient Bristlecone Pine, a e1d08881cccb4f01d8535695a7275768wispy and colorful Aspen, perhaps a dormant creepy oak, hiding in the shadow, it’s limbs reaching through the shimmering of a silver moon. The spirit of the tree speaks to me.  Old and wise, knowledge long forgotten, perhaps magic also.  Just think about all they have seen over the years.  Love, hatred, war and civility, bloodshed along with valor, yet always humanity.  I don’t know, maybe I do need some therapy, or an intervention of some sort. 

All of these things though are a source of inspiration to me.  Not inspiration as in spiritual, no, imagination, creativity, whatever one might like to call it.

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I can’t forget cemeteries, they hold such a special place in my heart.  You might remember a few weeks back, I wrote about Jennifer and I exploring Buckskin Cemetery way back when.  We still love to go headstone hunting, reading the inscriptions and wondering…  What kind of life the people had, and just how they may have perished.

Again, here is the going theme.  The ghosts speak to me.  I feel their presence, almost as if they desperately need me to hear their confessions, dreams, who knows?  Now lets combine cemeteries and trees, and boy am I ever in trouble. 

e6890baa01b3773da26da4fc45767850Ever since I was a boy, I’ve had a love for old cars.  I’m not talking about the ones that have been lovingly restored or customized, however beautiful they are.  I’m talking about the old abandoned ones, left to rust and fall apart in solitude.  There are stories here too.  Some that have to be dug out and looked at from all angles.  Just think, that car was driven and loved by someone, now it sits lost and lonely in a field somewhere.  What is the story behind the steering wheel? 

So much inspiration in one place, and I’ve barely even scratched the surface.

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