Up the trail from our camp, I found two rusting wrecks from the 1950s — fading quietly into the forest, swallowed by moss and time.
Their beauty lies in their decay, a soft reminder that even what’s falling apart still tells a story.
I brought Herman with me that day — my vintage fox who lives at camp. He’s one of my oldest and dearest taxidermy pieces. Someone didn’t do him justice long ago, but I’ve always loved him just as he is. He lost his ears a few months back, too damaged to mend — yet when I found a little fox-ear hat, it somehow made him even sweeter.
Two vintage souls — one fox, one machine — both fading, both still standing proud in the forest. A perfect combination, quiet and timeless. 🍂🦊
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