Boxes. I have this love of boxes. Don't know why. But I love them. Cute little ones, shoe boxes, paper mache boxes, those photo boxes in the stores, Mary Englbrett boxes, plain brown boxes, fancy boxes, refrigerator boxes (do you know the things you can make from one of those babies? Keeps the little ones busy for hours). Any and all boxes. Every kind. The lovely one my sister in law gave me with the beautiful music box in it. Boxes, lovely boxes.
I wonder if there is some deep psychological reason for this. Some drama from my childhood? Some need to have things in order? Which I surely don't. Some strange need to put everything in a box? in a category? What darkness lies behind it?
Nope... I'm not going there. I am just leaving that alone for now. Maybe sometime I will exam it. But for now I'm going to just continue to love my boxes and the sweet joy I find in them.