Book Houses
The other day I parked right outside a house with a bird house standing right in the middle of the front lawn, close to the sidewalk. It caught my eye. It wasn’t a birdhouse at all, it was a house yes, with a glass door and sign that told passerby’s to take what they wanted and to leave something too, if they desired. It was a permanent sheltered structure, a Book House, a free for the taking, but so glorious in it’s wooden painted frame. These were not books tossed to the curb in a cardboard box, and it gave me hope and a great feeling about humanity on an otherwise drab December day.
The next day, in a completely different neighbourhood, I came across another one. I’m taking these as a sign. One: to get writing, and Two: give Grandpa his next woodworking project.
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