Been having mariposa court send me threating letters, threatening to steal my money. over a traffic…read moreincident that i was not involved in, i was not driving, it was not my vehicle, and i was not in mariposa. How this ended up being my problem is a mystery, either way. if i ever get a ticket in mariposa, i not only expect, but it will be mandatory for it to be somebody elses problem, rather then mine. since at this moment somebody elses problem is costing me $600. EAT SHIT MARIPOSA. Pathetic when the courts/and Police are acting like any other local Meth Heads.

Amazing history. This place is still a working courthouse which was a surprise. Unfortunately it's…read morejust open during working hours (weekdays) and closes early 3pm so coming in Friday around 4:30 pm we missed getting to go inside to see but was an impressive site during the first rain of the season on Saturday morning when we took these pics.

I love visiting Yosemite. So many beautiful trees and waterfalls. There are also some historical…read morebuildings. One ancient building is the Post Office. Built in 1925 there is a historical feeling. I ventured inside and sent off a card to my pen pal in Germany Karen. It's the most interesting spot I sent a postmark from. Postal worker was very friendly and told me how old the building was. The first Post Office I ever visited was in downtown San Diego. I was amazed you could put envelopes in the slot and it would go to the address on the envelope. The E St Post Office was built in 1937 so it was a youngster compared to Yosemite's.

Goodbye. It seemed like such a permanent, concrete word and for just a moment, it jumped off the…read morelinen stationery and into Daisy Degnan's mind. It rattled and echoed for only a moment before she let it form in her throat and roll off of her tongue. "Goodbye," she whispered. No one there at the Yosemite Post Office heard her say it, but saying it out loud made it real; the act of saying it out loud somehow made it less scary. She closed box number 321, and still clutching the letter, made her way outside. She turned too quickly in her plain, navy blue dress and looked down to watch the flour shake free from the pleats, dissipating into the breeze of Yosemite Valley. She watched as long as she could, until each little particle disappeared, floating upwards to El Capitan, Half Dome, Yosemite Falls -- standing outside the post office she could see them all towering around her. They were old friends. Protectors since birth. Why had she ever left this place? "Miss Daisy Degnan left Yosemite Valley Thursday for an indefinite visit in San Francisco," the newspaper had said. She had memorized it, not because she was particularly fond of the Mariposa Gazette, but because it was all she had ever wanted and it was the fulfillment of that dream; the black-and-white embodiment of her desire to get out of her mother's bakery, and out of the Valley, and go to the city where there were automobiles, dress shops, and even an honest-to-goodness French baker making real baguettes. So, against her mother's wishes she had packed her canvas backpack and taken a ride all the way down the bumping roads to the train station and purchased a ticket to San Francisco. A loud crack suddenly broke her gaze and she looked back towards the post office. It was just the door slamming into its frame; although the post office was still new, the door spring had already malfunctioned and there was no easing it back after it opened. Every time someone went in and out, the door would slam against its frame before slowly sliding back into place. It was 1925 and they could make automobiles that drove all the way from the city to her Valley, but they still couldn't make a door that didn't slam like that? Her mother would be needing her soon in the bakery. She had loathed those peasant loaves as a young woman, and had wanted so badly to try one of the city's proper loaves when she arrived. But when she finally found the Parisian baker and tried his baguette, her heart sank. She found herself longing for the family recipe; Yosemite imparted some kind of magic into each round boule, and she missed it. That was the first time she wondered if she had make a mistake. Before making her way back to her mother's side to help with the next batch of dough, she needed to go see The Old Man. She promised it would be a quick visit, but she also knew that with him, there was no such thing. She followed the road, crossed over the bridge, and headed back down underneath the stones to his shores. "Old man," she said to the river, "he said goodbye. I mean, I didn't want him to. I wanted him to come to me, and for us to live all those dreams we had..." she trailed off. The Old Man quietly took all this information in. This particular stretch of emerald pools was her favorite, because more than riffles, falls, or rapids, the pools of the Merced always listened, but today the muted gurgles urged her to say even more. "Please don't make me say it," she pleaded. She didn't want to say the thing. The true thing; that thing that neither time, nor distance, nor any goodbye letter would ever change. But already she knew she would have to say it. That urge to speak truth was strong; It was the same feeling she had when she finally admitted that leaving the valley had been a mistake. It was the kind of truth that flowed even stronger and swifter than the Old Man and had to be said out loud because keeping it in would eventually shake down the very walls of this valley. She sighed, drew in a breath, and spoke her truth: "I love him. I will always love him. And he didn't choose me." She unfolded the letter and looked one last time at the angle and curve of his initials, and then closed her eyes and released the letter, with its hopes, and dreams, but also with its burdens it to the river. It slowly circled the eddies, and once saturated the cool waters of the Merced carried it out from the grass, over the rocks, and out of her sight. "Goodbye," she whispered, and turned back to the trees of Yosemite Valley where the sun was shining once again. **Author's note: Daisy Degnan is a real person, as cited in the newspaper snippet. Her mother Bridget, ran the bakery in the early 1900s and there's even a cafe called Degnan's Kitchen in Yosemite still today. The rest is fiction, but The Post Office is my favorite place in Yosemite and this is the only way I know how to paint a picture of how I feel every time I go in there.

Great people, great service. They provide much needed support to the community. Keep on keeping on.read more

I was debating on how to rate this place honestly and fairly from a customer's perspective...here…read moregoes! Selection is good and prices are comparable to other places in the area. No issues there and I would rate this place as 4 stars in this category. OTOH, customer service needs serious improvement for me to return. I hate to say that about a local business as I always try to shop local, but I would rate customer service as 1 star. The fellow with the beard is who I am talking about. He may known his stuff, but his attitude has chased away this customer!

We've been to many laundromats in the past six months. This was okay, I give them lots of credit…read morefor being there. It is a small community after all. The good is there were enough washing machines there, although one was posted as not working. The one next to it had an error code in the display, so we avoided it. The bad was the dryers were very slow to dry and ate more quarters than any other laundry we've visited. The bathroom there is locked and not available to customers. This is the first one we've used with no bathroom, that's a negative. The place was clean and we felt safe there.

It's nice to have a laundromat in the area, but it needs a lot of maintenance. 2 out of 6 dryers…read morewere out of order and the ones that were working didn't seem to have enough heat Same with washers. Very small area. Overall I like it, but not my first choice

Always very helpful. They give me the information I need and my packages always get delivered.read more

Very nice and fast! They are always helpful, never super busy and affordable. They also have really…read morecute gifts to buy!

the workers are very nice, their constantly cleaning the place, plenty of space…read more it does only take quarters but there is a machine to change your cash to quarters.

This Laundry mat is super clean and well maintained. The owner was onsite and attentive for any…read moreissues that customers may have had, he helped me out with properly loading the large machine with quarters.

My significant other were in Mariposa for the butterfly festival earlier this year. We were lucky…read moreenough to find lone wolf Jewlery while browsing the local vendors. All the jewelry was out of this world amazing and the lady running the stand offered for us to come back and design our own engagement rings . We both were over the moon about the idea and cant wait to go back and start designing!! The entire experience was wonderful, very welcoming and personal. I cant wait to see what beautiful designs we come up with. (Fingers crossed he pops the question soon!) See you soon Lone wolf! :)

I was waiting for the Christmas Parade to start and the decided to stop by with my husband. I have…read morefallen in love with the local rock Mariposite and this jewelry store delivered the perfect pieces for my jewelry "collection". There are so many beautiful and quality pieces. You are going to find something that is for you. It is worth stopping by if you are in town.

Great experience! I had stored my things at this facility for a little over a year. The…read moreregistration was easy and John, the owner is very pleasant. He responds quickly, he is thorough and fair. Especially with pricing. The grounds are clean, free of trash, and never a problem coming and going from my unit. You even get to drive close by some horses on the way! Thank you, Mariposa Mini Storage for keeping my things safe. I just ended my service with them and moved.