the red bucket.

I stumbled upon this brush enveloped picnic table a few Septembers ago while walking along the Brandywine Creek near Delaware. The red bucket was perfectly positioned on the seat, though cracked. I imagined it was perhaps left by a child trying to catch minnows or crayfish.
It reminded me of my own summers past. Memories of warm days, never ending picnic sandwiches, and cold fresh lemonade. Days of wading knee high in cool gently trickling ever-tickling water as the late summers hot sun baked at my back. Oblivious and well aware all at once.

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