Old Brick Building

Friday mornings find us in Greendale for S's piano lessons. Today I decided to see what lay at the end of a street I had never taken.
I was well-rewarded.


No Parking ANY TIME--
Isn't that the truth?
Time never stops.
Newness wears off.
Things break down.
Decay sets in.


But someday there will be a new heavens and a new earth, no moth or rust will destroy it and no thieves will break in and steal.

Old buildings speak to me. I don't know why. But they frequently call to me as I pass: "Hey You! You can see me can't you? Please help! A little TLC, a bit of elbow grease, and I could be beautiful again..."

I think bricks are rich material from which to build. I grew up in Oregon where almost everything was constructed from wood. I like wood. But here the old buildings are made of rock, stones and bricks. 

They stand a lot longer and I like the way they weather. 

In the old days, before people watched HGTV, they knew that dark greens and greys go best with bricks. No one would dream of  painting the door to their building Lemon or Lime or Eggplant.


This is door #78. That used to mean something to someone.
I wish I knew what.

S was, as usual, very patient while I hopped in and out of the van snapping this and that. Later he informed me that he had seen my 'dream car' while I was getting groceries and had taken a picture:

Wow. I'm speechless. ;)