One day last week I took a short trip to visit a friend and passed by a neat little house that was set back a good distance from the road. There was a garden in the front yard, but not the sort of garden I'd ever seen before. This was a flourishing Eden of ... mailboxes. I kid you not.
Every size, shape, and color you can imagine, and each one of them proudly sprouting from a sturdy post sunk into the ground. A carefully hand-lettered sign in front of them all read Mailboxes for Sale.
I just had to turn around and go back for a closer look. Just as I pulled my car to the side of the road, an elderly gentleman stepped out of the front door of the house. He saw me sitting there, smiled, and waved. I decided he was harmless and so I got out of the car to take a closer look.
For the next half hour I browsed and, to tell you the truth, I was flabbergasted. I learned that he often retrieved damaged boxes and spruced them up to add to his garden. Some of the boxes he'd made himself. He was truly an artist, too. Not only was the display beautiful, but it was neatly arranged by category: wrought iron mailboxes for sale, victorian mailboxes for sale, copper, antique, extra large -- you name it. If it's a box that can hold mail, the man had it.
His prices weren't bad at all, but I don't need a new mailbox just now, so I left without buying one. The gardener didn't seem to mind. He enjoys his unusual collection as much as he enjoys making a few extra dollars from the sales.
As I continued on my drive, I realized I'd just met one of the luckiest people alive -- a man who has found something he enjoys and who is content to share it or just to bask in the completion of his wonderful restoration and design. If only we could all find that balanced state of mind.
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