I’m currently saving every penny to put down on a new vehicle as my beloved convertible has deserted me.
I suppose all the trips into the mountains, on roads she wasn’t made to travel didn’t help.
I never meant to abuse her, but she knew what I was about when she called my name.
At any rate, she is now disabled so another vehicle must be acquired.
I’m going for a Jeep. I know exactly what I want excepting the color.
Still working on that.
But, that has nothing to do with dishes.
Or so one would think.
I can’t afford a new vehicle and a replacement dishwasher.
I had dirty dishes, but I hand washed them.
I am currently in serious mountain trail withdrawal.
I suppose I can, when forced to, hand wash my dishes.
I don’t have to like it.
Considering, however, that Autumn is near, my priorities scatter.
Washing dishes is a small price to pay for being in the middle of creation as it undergoes its unimaginable metamorphosis.
I’m a photographer.
That doesn’t mean I can’t, if the need arises, be a dishwasher.
We do what needs to be done so we catch the shot.
Ansel would agree and, were it necessary, wash dishes; of that, I am certain.