My favorite store in Douglas. Full of random, sundry, glorious nick-knacks. If you've received a postcard from me, it came from here. Home Bakery shop on the left makes a decent jelly-filled. Also quaint as all get-out.
Douglas Post Office. The P.O. is a central social gathering place in smalltown America. E'erbody's got a P.O. Box cause they live way the heck outta town. It's not uncommon for people to stop and talk to 10 people they know in here, all getting their mail on a sometimes weekly trip "into town." (note: holy smokes! the flag is NEVER that calm, with all the rip-roarin wind 'round here)
Tree branch icicles. Public library on the right. Note the pickups/duallies.
Great sky. More duallies...
Stetson ridin shotgun, just where it should be, except of course when the shotgun is riding shotgun. Also another dually...
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You know, until the later part of the 19th century town post offices used to serve alcohol. The men of the town would all gather their mail there - no post boxes on the houses - and have a drink. Every body knew every body's bus because they were probably standing there when man A opened a letter about it. And were trashed.
It was part of the 'Progressive' era reforms to make POs close on a sunday - less out of sabbatarian sensibilities than to stop people buggering off there after church to get tipsified.
History is fun.