A postcard is the perfect summer correspondence. It doesn't take much to dash off a sentence or three, add an address, attach a stamp, and drop your words in a mail box. Just like that, you've shared a good piece of your summer vacation, shown off a part of your hometown, shared an image and a few words about something of interest . . .
Dodson, D. did that with postcards from his and Kaylee's vacation in cooler climes than mine. What memories they're making! I enjoy letters from my adult pen friends who share their childhood vacation memories when something triggers a recall. Postcards matter.
This is something else all together. Thanks for supporting an artist, Dodson. Illustrators work hard for their money too. People used to question why we graphic design students charged $35.00 an hour " just for drawing." They never asked architects the question. Go figure. I am crazy for pen and ink illustrations. What's not to like when you can pore over the same drawing several times and discover something you missed the last time because you were so busy enjoying the parts that grabbed your eye right away? It's the same with me and mail art. Art is art, is it not? Thanks again, Dodson, D.! Hope you're hoe recovering from your vacation. (grin)
Great graphics do a wonderful job. And no one can say Charley Harper isn't wonderful. It took months for me to part with my first CH postcard. They're all unique in a special way. Great graphic designers are as fascinating as mail artists who see things in spectacular ways. They break images down to their most basic and wow the viewer. Even now, I just noticed something I'd missed perviously, as previously as the day this arrived. How did I miss this? And all those kits! Aww. Thanks, Phillip, for the surprise Harper!
This isn't even my postcard, but if I don't comment on it you will never know that it exists. JC got mail! Angela is my mail angel. She sent him a postcard because
he never gets fun mail he's so good about posting and retrieving mail from the post office for me. Thank you, dear Angela. He blushed! He gets birthday cards in his p.o. box from people like his dentist, insurance agent, and the likes. It's pretty much the same for our home box except the cards are from Erin, me, sister, brother, and spammers. Don't feel sorry for him, y'all! No-no-no. JC doesn't get good mail everyday, or even once in awhile, because he does not write letters, notes, or postcards. Man, I could live in any one of those barns. Thank you, again, Angela.
I'm busy writing letters, notes, postcards, drawing and coloring, making mail bunting, and actual bunting between doses of daily living. I made a mess of scheduling posts, so please forgive my mess. Some were published without photos, while others self-published without me saying anything. I just laughed. It's all fun. And no matter what else might be falling out from up my sleeves, there's always time for writing a handful of perfect summer postcards. Tomorrow . . . the notecard!
P.S. I need assistance for sidewalk maneuvering and climbing up into JC's truck. Our sidewalk slopes, so when I go past a certain point in the driveway, I'm off to the races, and they're always downhill. It's funny! But only because I haven't fallen.