Once Layers begin They Proliferate

This reminds me of years. Before you know it you've accumulated years.It just seems to happen. You go along working, traveling, loving,creating and you accumulate "stuff": the Moon Snail and the Widows Purse, a piece of lava from Utah's Capital Reef, books waiting to be read, wood letters from the Type Store in Bernard, Maine.

I first went into that small wood building built right on a wharf because I read about their collection of wood letters. A retired couple ran the store. They had been collecting type for years and turned a hobby into a small business when they retired. She made type collages and he looked through heavy lenses and told stories of the type—where it came from and what it might have printed.

"Soon it will all be gone—stored in someone's collection or thrown out."

Year after year I visited their store and made small wood letter purchases . One year only the man appeared—his wife had passed away. He created a zen sand garden in her memory. The store remained for a few years and then it went through a series of layers—first the astronomer took over and then a book store and then a wedding chapel.

Layers of time—one on top of another.