Well may you ask the connection between rust and pods, and further may you question the significance of a post about either of them. And I confess, I have no answer, except that something about each class intrigues me. What is it? The passage of time with its connection with our own lives? Durability? The charm of the flawed?
Near one of the stores where we shopped yesterday was an ancient gasoline pump. Broken. Rusted. Beautiful. Its sides were pitted with decay.
In a clump beside the old pump was a stand of yellow flowers (black-eyed susans?) that with a flourish had shot up the side of the flawed metal. .
Its brand was legible. 
Nearby in the things of rust was a fence.
Chains and iron of decay.
Pods abound here on my brother’s property. I’m enchanted.
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Shirley Buxton 