What your mailbox (and lawn art) say to me

Rain or shine, freezing cold or burning hot, I try to take Sweet Dog and E for a walk every day. It doesn't always happen, but maybe five days out of the week we make a loop in our neighborhood specifically chosen for it's relative lack of scary backyard dogs.

I got lost a bunch of times walking in our neighborhood when we first moved here, sometimes choosing streets full of fenced-in dogs who were SURE we were intent on invading their homes to carve out their owners' hearts with E's sippy cup lid. Now that I've got my perfect loop, I stick to it.

The things I noticed first were the mailboxes. Everyone in our neighborhood has one, right beside their driveway, out at the curb.

Saying: "STEAL MY MAIL. IT'S RIGHT HERE."

(Isn't that what they're saying? Or is this is what happens to your brain when you've lived in urban California for too long? It took about three months of me running out to retrieve the mail as soon as it was delivered to realize that even if I left it there for a few hours, or even several days, NOTHING WOULD HAPPEN TO IT. Except maybe your kindly neighbor would take it in for you and bring it you with a plate of home-made cookies.)

Most of the mailboxes in our neighborhood are run-of-the-mill black ones.

A basic mailbox: white post, black mailbox, red flag.
(Weeds around base, optional or, in our case, inevitable.)

Some neighbors change their mailbox sleeves to match each upcoming holiday. You know which neighbor is going through a hard time when you see a snowmen mailbox sleeve in June. (Urban friends: Yes, they make decorator sleeves for mailboxes. I KNOW, crazy, right?)

There are a few favorite mailboxes on my route that always call out to me and now they feel like old friends with whom I can converse.

(Okay, yes, I could use a few more friends here.)


This one reminds me of my grandparents' old airstream trailer, which my toddler brother called a "crailer". Hence E greets this one with: "Hi crailer me-box!"

This one calls out to me: "Feel free to rest your Big Gulp Slushie right here!"

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Mailbox.

Top rack dishwasher safe! Caution: may warp and/or acquire stubborn tomato sauce stains with regular use.

Often, there will be a seemingly endless row of plain black mailboxes and then...
*BAM* "I LIKE FLOWERS!"

Okay, can we talk about this for a minute? Any Southerners out there care to help me understand this one? This "lawn ornament" is out front of a neighbors' house. In case you can't see it well, because I was too polite/chicken-shit to get close enough to take a proper picture so I had to take it from a moving vehicle, this is an African-American lawn jockey. On the lawn of elderly WHITE neighbors. W. T. H. In what universe is this not offensive?

This is the South: Neighbors put racist statues on their lawn, and then bring you your mail with a plate of homemade cookies.