OK so maybe it was a little odd …

We don’t spend many weekends at home, often we travel away, sometimes for photography commissions but these last few have been spent at home enjoying the peaceful life we live, in the peaceful place we live … that quiet beachside village that doesn’t attract police patrols.

Oh yes, there’s a story to be told.

It all began a little while back when a girlfriend and I began walking on some school mornings we were both available.  The walks happen once or twice a week.   It’s become a very special time in my week as we walk and we talk and we laugh and we admire and we share our love for the gorgeous beachside village we live.   Mostly we catch up on funny stories about our children and the sweetness of our families and sometimes admire the finer details of our neighbour’s yards and renovations being made.   That’s where the idea began and this past weekend was the time to put it into action.

I’d been thinking for a while how to show our post lady just how much I appreciate the extra care she takes with our mail and especially my photography orders.   Living so far away from professional photography suppliers and my clients, I rely on Australia Post a lot, to deliver orders safely and securely to my doorstep and then to onto my clients.   Martha (Yes, I know our postie on first name basis as does everyone in our neighbourhood) does just that.   She phones when there’s an order coming to find out just what I want done with it if I’m not home.    Each time her name pops up on my mobile screen, my heart flutters, I sigh and think just how special my postie is.   I really wanted to do something in return and this past weekend was the time to put it into action.

Saturday morning I announced to my husband how I would like to do one of our weekend drives we take around the neighbourhood.  We hadn’t done it in a while and it’s always a great way to remember just what we love about where we live. Together.   I announced to my husband how I would like to do this weekend drive but with a twist.   “You can drive but you’ll have to be prepared to stop so I can take photos.”

“What are you going to take photos of.”

“Letterboxes.”

“That’s a little odd don’t you think?”

“Oh but they are so adorable and funny and gorgeous and creative and unique.  I want to document it and publish a book with it.   It’s a personal project I’ve had in my mind for a while and I really want to do this and I need your help.   Can we pleaassseeee?”

And that was that, so the journey of making a book for our postie called ‘Love Letters’ began.

We started off along our street stopping to photograph letter boxes.   Tim looked a little content as he listened to talkback radio and Harry and I jumped out of the car to take photos of letter boxes.

“Oh there’s one” … “Stop” … “How about that one?”  we’d call from our seats and he’d pull up and look a little content as he listened to talk back radio while we indulged in the details of the letter boxes.   Sometimes he would offer his opinion.

This is fun. I thought.

Along the way, some friends would come out and we’d chat and we’d laugh and we’d share the love of our neighbourhood letterboxes.

Along the way we picked up one of Harry’s schoolmate who became a number spotter of very cool letterboxes.

Along the way we’d sometimes play peek a boo games with some unfamiliar neighbours through windows behind curtains.

Along the way we’d wave and smile and indulge in the beauty each boxes had.

Along the way Tim looked a little less content and at times a little anxious.

At one stage, he mentioned to me how a lady had come out to their front yard looking very concerned.

“She looks like she’s calling the police”.

With that,  I shot him a look and let out an out of character bark, “OH STOP BEING PARANOID.”   And rightfully so?    ”This is fun! Let’s keep going!”  I continued, thinking to myself , no-one was going to damper this project, including my gorgeous and sometimes nervous husband.   I was determined and it was fun and it wasn’t at all odd.   Not. At. All.

We finished our journey and we zoomed on home.   I couldn’t wait to get the photos prepared and begin making the special book for our postie as a sign of my appreciation.   And about an hour later, a police car drove past our house slowly.   I thought to myself … “Owwww.” and then quickly suggested in my mind how maybe paranoia may just be contagious.   We continued the day as normal and that night I made a special book called ‘Love Letters’ for my dear postie.  Each.Page.Made.With.love.     Sunday morning we woke and began our normal ‘home Sunday’ routine as normal.   Reading the papers.  Serving breakfast.  Memorised by where we live.   Enjoying the calm.

Well that was before that police car drove past.  Again.  Slowly.  And stopped.   And turned around.   And pulled up.   Tim turned to me looking a little more than slightly anxious and I turned to him looking slightly surprised.   We both turned to the front door, took deep breaths and approached the very friendly Police Officer waiting at our doorstop.

Turning to Tim, the Police Officer asked “Are you Tim Bofinger?”

Then turning to me “And you’re Carolyn Bofinger.”

“And you drive a little black car?”

“And you were in M….. drive yesterday.”

“That’s right Officer.  That’s us.”

The very friendly Police Officer continued by assuring us we were in no trouble but there had been a few complaints from the residents suggesting that someone was outside their homes on Saturday afternoon…

Before he could continue, Tim interrupted to explain the situation.  “Oh my wife’s a photographer and … {blah, blah, blah}”  At the end of his very supportive and confident blurb, I reassured the very friendly Police Officer how I was taking the photos to make a book.   “I just wanted to take some photos for a book I am creating.   That’s all.  Just letterboxes and photos and a book.”   I must have started looking a little anxious, as he once reassured me how I was in no trouble.   The very friendly Police Office suggested what I might do in future and kindly offered to give feedback to the concerned residents.    He got in his car and drove away.      A little less slowly.

Tim and I turned around.    We went back inside.  I looked at Tim.   I shook his head and let out an out of character bark  …

“WELL IT WAS ODD.   IT WAS AN ODD THING TO DO CAROLYN.”  And rightfully so!

And I stood in silence.   

And I reflected.

Until next time .. enjoy.

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