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There is something poetic about a glove lying abandoned in the cold. Once part of a pair, now separated. Someone realized their loss but didn't care enough to go back to find it. So the glove sits alone.
I found an old glove out in the sand dunes this fall. Along with a coke can from the 70's. No telling how long they had been buried in the sand, only to turn up again decades later. I'll look for the photo I took of the glove laying there, wind swept, and emerging from the sand again.
Went out yesterday and took a couple more of that glove out in the dunes. Snow has either blown away or melted off the last week or so out there, so I was able to walk right to it again (don't ask how I remember where these things are, I haven't a clue)
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