As I walked into work this morning, this bright pink thing was lying in the Main Street drainage. Yeah, no, of course I picked it up, but as I did, I noticed that the only other trash around was one cigarette butt.
Like tea leaves, if only that were a real thing, this tableau of street garbage tells our story.
I've watched Stafford change in the last three years. Happily, I'm a symptom of that change: I was drawn to the aesthetic beauty and character, and moved my art shop in. You all know that part. At the time, I proclaimed to anyone who'd listen that you can not stop artists from moving into an area if it's the kind of area that attracts them.
And they keep coming. Painters, specialty crafters, writers, chefs...
Three years ago the street was still all butts. Today it was one lonely butt and a very bright, happy, slightly run over artist brush. Yay us!