The town was called Woodlake. It was maybe 30 houses, about half of them occupied. In the middle of a pristine prairie landscape.
The town had a lot of great things about it. The post office, for instance, was tended well. Plants in the window, squeaky clean windows.
But if you turned around and looked past the little house with the trailer parked next to it, there was a field of junk. Pure junk. Hog cots, hauled in from some field. Trucks. Cars. Farm implements. An airplane, probably landed on the highway and sold for junk.
If you went on down the little gravel road, turned right, you came to an old house, partially stripped of its siding, with junk in the yard, and four young horses. They were hungry, and came over to look when I stopped.
Both the trailer and the horses are in the pictures. The mainstreet is there, too.
Woodlake is a perfect little town, but it's struggling with its own garbage.
This theme is repeated many places in those small towns. They just can't escape the garbage or the people who collect it.
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Topic: OT -- Show time (Read 1234 times)