It's been so long I think I've forgotten how

Okay, the letterboxing bug is creeping back upon me. It's been almost a year since I got ink on my fingers.

I must get with my Silent Monks and plan, plot, and scheme.

Letterboxing Crime Wave in the Northeast?

I've only been partially following the story of the rash of letterboxes that have gone missing (stolen?) in the Northeast. One boxing reporter puts the number of missing boxes at about 150.

Perhaps because I'm not as emotionally invested in these boxes, I'm taking a more philosophical approach than many.

Letterboxing - for me at least - is a temporary art form - like snowflakes and sunsets. I never expect any box that I place to become a permanent fixture. And I don't expect a 100% success rate when I go looking for letterboxes.

Things happen--
weather and landscapes change with time,
hiding places are poorly chosen,
careless boxers fail to accurately replace,
curious creatures with a taste for plastic cart away a new treat,
Noxers stumble upon them,

AND

the occasional Obnoxer will purposely remove the treasure for whatever reason.

In an area like the Northeast, that is positively teeming with letterboxes, what's 150?

The collective GASP of all letterboxers just sucked my computer across the desk.

"But, Chuck!" they cry,
"Those were so much work!
I loved those stamps,
that series,
that place was special,
that box was important . . .etc."

I know. Really, I know.
All of those missing boxes represent hours of effort and varying levels of sentiment.

Some rewards of this hobby are artistry, brainwork, nature, treasure hunting and appreciation.

Part of this hobby is secrecy and a threat is publicity.

A risk of this hobby is transience - which may enhance the appreciation.

When you leave that box out in the world and publish, on a worldwide and public platform, how to find it, what do you expect to happen?

For those of you who've lost boxes, I am sorry for your loss.

I hope the blow is lessened by knowing yours are not the first and only boxes to have gone missing.

Now, suck it up.

Plant more.

Make them harder to find.

Challenge any would be thieves to use their heads

or climb higher

or hike longer.

The Delicate Flower

Never wanting to be an imposition, Lady Prisspott, with only the slightest clatter of nervously held china, gently placed her teacup and saucer on the sideboard and slumped as gracefully, quickly and quietly as possible to the floor and to unconsciousness. The others never would have noticed if not for the sudden and impatient "Oh, for the love of Pete!" that leapt unbidden through Ivy's lips.

Sue and Mark instantly moved to assist Ivy as she attempted to pull Hydrangea up and onto the divan, while Dr. von Scott moved to check her pulse and temperature.

'What on Earth happened?' and a variety of similar, overlapping inquiries accompanied the flutter of concerned friends who clustered about Hydrangea, fanning and offering water.

"Oh, honestly, I have no idea." Ivy insisted, rolling her eyes "I just gave my sister a summary of the conversations we were having here that she'd missed while visiting the, [ahem], water closet."

"Well, how could that have caused Lady Prisspott to faint?" Mark asked, "I was only talking with Dr. von Scott about the various injuries I've sustained while hiding letterboxes. Invariably I'll step in a patch of poison-something-or-other or skin a knee or twist a joint--nothing very graphic or serious--I just can't seem to return unscathed from hiding a box. That's not cause for alarm, is it?"

"Only a little disturbing, but not enough to cause this." agreed Sue, "Lori, what were we talking about?"

"Ah..." Lori paused, trying to remember "Oh! Um, Tupperware! And boxing with children."

"Yes, that's right." said Sue, tapping her chin "Letterboxing with children used to make our containers a bit larger than usual to accomodate their artwork."

"And the problem with larger ones" added Lori "is that they tend not to hold their seal as well. Brian, what were you doing?"

"Nothing, really." Brian said, pausing from pouring a scotch and looking to Ivy for agreement, "I was showing Ivy how I filed my letterboxing photos."

"It's true," Ivy yawned. "He's very particular about how each photo is rated, 'These are marked H and go in the Hiking album, those are C and go in the Carving album'--all immensely fascinating." Ivy yawned again and took the glass of scotch from Brian.

"Hmph." grunted Brian. "We were on the Exchange album when Lady Prisspott returned and whispered with her sister. Next thing you know she's on the floor."

"What did she say?" Asked Sue.

Rolling her eyes and sighing heavily, Ivy looked at the ceiling, "She asked me what she missed and I told her--

The ladies were talking about their large wet boxes,
Brian was sharing his X-rated photos,
and Mark told the Doctor it hurt when he P's."

Pausing to down her scotch, Ivy concluded "And then she fainted."

Boxing in June

Here's Wink sporting the latest in Letterboxing Pub Crawl-wear of Summer.





And here is our gang in a grueling letterbox hike.

Poison Ivy's Personal Traveler

Okay, at long last I'm posting the clue to my personal traveler.

Ask to borrow my lipstick.

Boxing in May

Boxing in May
in the rain
on a cliff
way up high
with the guys...

...and girls.

Homages and Oddballs

In Homage to Boxers

Birdbanto
Lock Wrench
Miz Harlet
Turn Green Draggin'

I have these, but don't know how to record them.

Miles of Smiles
Swedish Egg Coffee