It was a rough winter for many, but mailboxes in the way of a plow had it tougher than most. Each year a few boxes are lost in the line of duty, but winter of ’15 left scores of broken and dented corpses tossed into heaps of snow. Storm after storm buried them deeper in frozen the snowbanks, but now they are emerging, scarred and worn, along the battlefield at the edge of our roads.
RIP, letter boxes…
These two boxes were surgically removed without damaging the central nervous system. Nice job, doc!
This poor baby had a headache after going head-on against a plow, and is wisely taking a little snooze.
Like a fish out of water, this box is jaw-dropped and gasping for air. Or maybe it just needs more snow.
White king bows to black. Game over.
It must have been a wild night, with one party sleeping it off in the grass, while the tied-one-on is ready for more.
Powder blue with it’s back rearing in the air, this box looks like a mechanical bull that has just tossed its rider.
This is not the Tuscan field of green grass and poppies where Lucy Honeychurch and George Lewis exchange their first kiss. Looking more like a landscape where it is always winter but never Christmas, this view is more likely to reveal a lion or a witch, or perhaps a wardrobe.
The battle was too much for the green rider on the ground, but steadfast and sure, the Bangor Daily News box delivers its message.
Fresh paint, a new post, perhaps a whack with a hammer, and most boxes can be back on duty. Me, I have a post office box, but I hope your box weathered the winter.