I took this picture because when I saw this scene, it made my heart stop. And then, when it started beating again, it broke. At the Pretty Place I told you about a few days ago, there is a very small graveyard. When I went out there the Monday after Valentine’s Day was on Saturday, I saw this bunch of balloons on one of the graves.

I took the picture from outside the fence, because that was as close as I felt like I could get without trampling all over someone’s private and intimate grief. Even though no one was in sight.

When all else is gone, love lingers.

“Come on, and I’ll show you a pretty place, a place you can go to collect your thoughts when you must leave there.”

This is the view from the van as I was leaving that place, after spending a bit of time there. I was so delighted with it that I forgot to take a picture until I was already in drive. This isn’t even the prettiest part of the Pretty Place, it’s just what I could capture without getting out of the van again.

As I type this, I’ve been back several times. It’s a great place to talk to yourself. It’s a good place to listen to a still small voice. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s pretty, and it’s sane. And when I leave it, so am I, for at least the time it takes me to drive home again.

Did you know that smell is the most evocative of the senses? It is powerful. My Grand-dad has been dead now 20 years, and he quit farming 10 before that, but if I smell a sun-warmed field, I am instantly moved back in time. I am young again, and he is still alive. And wood smoke is the scent of Papa, and he is laughing and saying “Denise, you are cuckoo.” Green beans simmering on the stove with bacon in them, that’s Grandma, and a nursing home is my Grandmother. (I have to add that I hope with time, more pleasant smells will bring her to mind.)

Anyway, you know that old shampoo commercial that goes “I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair”? That’s sorta what I did on the 31st.

January thirtieth found me back at the movies, this time for Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. All day. I tell ya, I do love a movie, but it gets a little boring to see the same one six times.

In a row.

Six times.

Anyway, Guitar Guy had dropped off his daughter for the last show, and as we were leaving, we saw this young man playing in the lobby. We thought Guitar Guy would think it was funny, so I asked if I could take his picture and post it on the internet.

And thus a nameless stranger has become part of my Project 365. Never mind that he really does have a name and probably isn’t a bit stranger than I am.

No clue. Seriously. How sad is that? But apparently I was sitting in the parking lot of one of the local shopping centers, reading.

For reasons unknown.

To anyone.

Even me.

Grrrrr

January 27th was my sister’s birthday. I spent the afternoon with a friend and then I came home to discover that sometimes one person posting one picture can lead to someone else posting this one:

Just to record the true and actual state of affairs. To keep it real. To acknowledge the mental PVC fence in the house, the elephant in the corner.

Ain’t that pretty? This is the inside of The Music Loft, which is one of the music stores in the next town over. I ended up there on the 26th, and thought it would make an interesting photo. As you can see, they have quite a selection of electric guitars. The acoustics are in the back room off the room you see here.