Snow on the field
On Barber Street, a guy wire (far right) has somehow broken free from its anchor rod and is dangling. Already, the utility pole it's connected to is beginning to lean.
I'm pretty sure the perpetrators live down the street at a converted laundromat. They stand on the porch and watch as their dog craps on properties along the street.
Being a music aficionado, I was tempted to take these, as I'm sure they're worth a few bucks, but I didn't want to get into the middle of what might be an alleyway divorce. And not being a member of the Geritol generation, I couldn't bear the thought of having to turn on the bubble machine as Perry Como croons me to sleep. Besides, I don't have a bubble machine.
Three walking . . and one riding?
It's right around the corner. Literally. It's on Cherry Street, right around the corner from Fifth.
