Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will... 
 And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!   
 Plot out a short story.
 Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem. 
 (you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).


Phineas Phipps was a man of particularities.
Commonly referred to as Master Phipps, he was the headmaster at the local boys school, and had been for several decades.
He was well loved, and a joy to be around. Everyone adored him.
A single man, he was known to have dated Penelope Andrews for years; although no one knew if he actually loved Penelope, or if he was just fond of helping her do her inventory at the local ladies' lingerie shop. On the first Tuesday he would carefully help her unpack the boxes of silky underthings, delighting in the fineness of the stitching.... the clasps... and the many mother of pearl buttons on pieces she imported from Paris. You see, it was the details that stirred him deeply.
Whether is was a particular font in a book he was reading, the edging on an old coin, or even the manner in which his cat Gertrude groomed herself in the morning light... it was the details of a thing that mattered to him. He gloried in perfection.
He always shined his shoes.
He consistently dressed the table for dinner, even if he was only having a cucumber sandwich and tea. His rose bushes were trimmed to perfection, and his irises traditionally won first prize at the county fair. It was with great sadness that he passed away, having bent over to gaze at something on the ground in front of him as he walked to the baker's one day. Some think it was a button or coin, others think perhaps he saw flashes of sparks from the tracks... regardless, poor Phineas was too absorbed in whatever he was looking at to notice the oncoming trolley as is pummeled down Main Street. He passed away quickly, and quite neatly ... some thought... in spite of the horror of the event.
A few years later, when the trolley was taken out to make way for more 'modern transportation',
the Ladies Garden Club honored him with a spectacular rose bush... planted in the very place he died.
Some say it is blooming still... and of course, it's perfect in every way.