Writing postcards.

When my niece's mother-in-law died, my niece presented me with a smallish cardboard box covered in gold paper. Maybe stationery had come in it, maybe candy, there was no indication of it's original usage, but inside it was an assortment of old postcards. Some were those linen surface ones, some were hand tinted, many were quite boring and left me wondering "who would want a postcard of a parking lot in rural North Carolina?" Some were in multiples, like the apartment complex in Tidewater, Virginia, or the Observatory in Chesapeake, Virginia. I'm so happy to have these cards. Tonight, I wrote 8 of them to service people on support mission in Haiti, one to PostMuse, and one to my daughter (which showed a photo of the place she went to school.) I like thinking of what to write on each card that relates to the image. In most cases, the cards are from locations I've never been to, or ever will be, like Luray Caverns. No cavern for me, thank you. One visit to the catacombs in Paris was enough subterranean for me for a lifetime.