I heard somewhere that this place had been flattened and replaced with a convenient parking lot. I am disappointed to learn that this is not the case, as I have had to park in somebody's hydrangea patch.

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Visit my fashionable gallery at vanevanfuller.com, home of the bottomless cup o' coffee.

Dear Whistler, you are more than welcome to leave your automobile in the HoF hydrangea patch as long as you wish. It has not been . . . satisfactory of late (green hydrangeas? I grow faint). Perhaps you could offer some suggestions, in addition to the welcome organic contribution dripping from the engine?

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“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

I have heard rumors, distant and faint, that there have been, in other times and other places, other Whistlers, though I cannot vouch for the veracity of these tales....

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I wanna love somebody but I don't know how
I wanna throw my body in the river and drown
-The Decemberists

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In gratitude forever … .