Built in Denmark

This letterbox is destined for Denmark, home of Lego. Turtlelove will find a home for it there.





















My son, Seth (Link), built this house for my letterbox. He glued most of the pieces together to make it more durable.

This is what you see when you take off the roof. The stamp is attached to the back of the house.





















Here is the emptied house.





















Yes, it will fit into a Lock-n-Lock.

Off With His Head!

Time passes, as time does, and the world has turned many times since the Queen of Hearts left Wonderland. Although she has long been forgotten by the land and those who now dwell there, she has never forgotten her kingdom. Her exile has not been easy for her, and though she demands to be returned to her home, her servants have been unable to accommodate her. Until now. Someone has told her tale again. She does not know whom, nor does she care. Knowledge is all that matters, and someone in Wonderland remembers her. That
is all she needs to return and gloat over the despair her kingdom must have suffered in her absence.

The queen felt a moment of victory as she and her executioner were chauffeured across the bridge leading to that majestic land. The toll plaza still stood, but the entry fee to Wonderland had increased to $5. The queen
yelled in disbelief, “Off with his head!” She pointed at the toll collector. Her irritation over the increase fee made her next words drip from her lips like venom, “When we ruled this kingdom, the fees were reasonable!” Despite
the queen’s rage, the toll collector would never feel the executioner’s blade. As a matter of fact, no one had been beheaded since Alice had escaped. The toll collector just watched in bemusement as the coach moved past his station and entered Wonderland.

“We demand to be taken to Riverview Drive!” the queen spat. It would sooth her ire to inspect the ruined cottages of her former subjects. Much to her displeasure, the cottages were still standing strong. Her frown deepened, but she remained silent until she discovered that her desired path was blocked to her. The queen shouted “Off with his head!” once more. The executioner got out of the coach in an artificial show of bravery, though there was no one for him to behead. The queen told the driver to continue to the right, leaving the poor executioner behind her . . . not that he'd done her any good at all. His ax had remained must unsatisfactorily in his belt this entire trip. As the driver rounded the curve, the queen spotted her old croquet court. “STOP!” yelled the queen. “We shall take it on foot from here.”

She gathered her skirts, grasped her scepter, and left the coach to inspect the grounds. The coachman knew not to follow her. He did, however, watch her as she angrily stomped away. The queen barely noticed that she was alone because she was caught up in remembering that fateful day. As she approached her croquet court, even more details flooded her mind. She remembered the flamingos and the hedgehogs . . . and that dastardly Alice. The queen's face always showed her anger and this was no exception. In an effort to control her rage, she turned her back on the croquet court and all of the memories it conjured.

“Walking this way will be better,” she thought. Unfortunately, it was not better. The queen was soon reminded of that blackest of days once more when she approached her garden. The criss-crossing boxwoods and sparking fountains were lovely, but the roses . . . oh those blasted roses! “They were supposed to be red,” she grumbled.

The queen shook her head and continued on. She reflected on the bitter past and wasted a coin or two on wishes. “Wishes won’t help us now,” she huffed. “What we wouldn’t do to relive that day.”

She walked on, alone for the first time in ages and completely lost in thought. She was startled as bicyclists leisurely passed her. “How we loath them,” the queen thought. “They should never have been allowed to keep their heads.” Her unhappy thoughts carried her forward until something on the right caught her eye.

“These majestic lions guarded our castle,” the queen mumbled. “Our castle! Yes!” Intent to once again find her throne, she rushed forward and soon stood facing her home. The ruins gave no hint of the palace that once stood here, and her heart sank. Confusion overtook her. “What is this?” she thought. Her ever present anger remained, yes, but a new emotion stirred in her soul.

She needed a moment to collect herself, so she dashed around the left side of what was left of her home and sat on the crumbling foundation, partially hidden by some palms. “We feel so . . . sad . . . and our eyes are... are leaking!” The queen was horrified and ashamed of this new emotion. She heard more of those shameful bicyclists approaching. She couldn't allow herself to be seen in this unsettling state of affairs.

The Queen of Hearts looked around quickly for a solution. She noticed some palm branches near her left hand, and a plan formed in her wicked head. After she carefully arranged her skirts around her and grasped her scepter tightly, she dove under the palm fronds.

To this day, the queen is hidden there. Her tears have dried, but her anger is as hot as ever. If anyone dares to disturb the queen, it will be “Off with his head!”

The Georgia Bird

- H +

W + - V - L - F

L + - R

- O + N +

- F H + - T

It Was Worth a Try . . .

In the fall, the monarch butterflies in the eastern United States migrate across the Gulf of Mexico to winter in Mexico. They arrive in St. Marks, Florida each year by the thousands to fatten up before the trip.

Since St. Marks is within 100 miles of my house, I had to see this butterfly collection firsthand. The peak of butterfly migration through St. Marks was supposed to be October 13th, so we picked that day for our adventure. We even arranged to share the fun with some more letterboxers, ThreeBoysG of Lynn Haven.

We had a great time in St. Marks, and we enjoyed the company of our new friends, but we did not see masses of monarchs. Fisher of Men did get a beautiful shot of a single butterfly, though, and we saw our first white pelican.

Was the trip a failure? Absolutely not! St. Marks is a gem, with or without gobs of butterflies. In addition, Kirbert's two boxes in the area were not to be missed. (Thanks, Kirbert, for introducing me to St. Marks.) Maybe I'll try for the butterflies another year.

Gifts of Love

My family recently took a road trip to the Florida boon docks. On the way, we found a yard sale that had books for 10 cents each. (I spent $2.30 on books.) We also happened upon a koi convention . . . those people were wild about their fish! The purpose of the trip, however, was to plant two letterboxes. I knew when I planted that these two boxes would be destined to be lonely, but rural Florida beckoned.

When I found Kirbert's Waitin' for the Train letterbox in May, I saw the huge gulf sturgeon jumping in the Suwannee River for the first time. I was delighted and amazed. The box I planted on October 6th, Suwannee Sturgeon, was born on that warm day in May. The stamp in the box is not one of my best carves, but it is original, and the box is unique.

Cedar Key, a remote island/fishing village off the Big Bend in Florida, is one of my family's "secret" spots . . . it's a diamond in the rough. I have been set on planting in Cedar Key since I began planting in December of 2006. I am happy to announce that I fulfilled one of my letterboxing goals with the placement of Big Bill on October 7th. In my opinion, the stamp in this box is my best to date.


Why did I plant two of my best boxes in such isolated areas? The answer is simple: the areas deserved them.

Smiling Peanut in a Parking Lot

I own two books about Georgia oddities, and both have a picture of this smiling peanut on the cover. "What a great place to plant," I thought. Off to Plains I went on July 18, 2007, armed with two boxes to plant.

When I found the smiling peanut, I was surprised to find it in the parking lot of a jiffy store. It was surrounded by tiny little bushes - unacceptable.

After looking for hiding spots all day to no avail, I headed home with my boxes in tow. What a bummer!

I returned to Plains on September 3, 2007 with a great deal of hope. After driving around Plains for a second day, the little bushes around the smiling peanut seemed much more appealing.

I planted the worst of my two boxes here, with the expectation that it would go missing soon. As a matter of fact, I really didn't expect this box to see a finder at all. I mainly wanted to plant here to show people this "unique" peanut.

Paradise Found

“I had a feeling we shouldn’t have eaten at this restaurant,” I said.
“Oh, well, at least the waitress was friendly and the tea was sweet,” Hubby replied.
“That’s true, and the view’s nice. I wonder how we can get to that trail from the outside of the lodge.”
“Do you realize that this is the first trip we have taken alone since we started having children? We need to do this more often.”
“I know, but I sure do miss the kids when they’re not here.”
As Hubby paid for the meal, I thought about the paradise we forfeited with the birth of our first son. The child didn’t kill the romance. Life just smothered it, I think. Maybe we simply forgot about that old kind of paradise and stopped seeking it. Maybe we traded it in for something different . . . Something lovely and good and fulfilling, but something different.
When Hubby caught up, he grabbed my hand and kissed my cheek. I think I blushed, but I wasn’t too worried about it. As we left the building and rounded the corner, Hubby whispered something in my ear, and I remembered that old paradise.
“There it is!” I said.
“Do you want to walk to the dock, or do you want to go into the woods?”
“If we go to the dock, the people eating in the restaurant will be able to see us. Let’s go the other way so we can be alone.”
When the sound of the lapping water filled my ears and the cool breeze off the lake hit my face, I felt invincible. I felt free. I felt loved. I felt peace. We soon came upon a bench, but trees were blocking the view, so we proceeded hand-in-hand. It was a good thing, too, because a much better bench was soon in view. Although we weren’t tired a bit, we sat on the bench and listened to the cicadas’ song.
“I want to have a little girl,” Hubby said. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’m too fat,” I said. "We’ve been married for twelve and a half years, and I’ve gotten fatter and fatter while you’ve gotten skinnier and skinnier.”
“You were big when you had the other two.”
“Not this big . . . and I think I’m growing a mustache!”
“What?!?” Hubby exclaimed. “Your lips are so beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”
The wind blew my hair from my face as we sat on the bench and watched the sun set. Just to the right of the sunset grew two trees, a fat one and a skinny one. “How fitting,” I thought. As I sat there with my reclaimed lover, I found a little of the paradise I lost so long ago.