Three rocks short of a dry stone wall
After an unprepossessing start to the day, I came home to discover the mail had brought me copies of Yoon Ha Lee's Moonstorm (2024) and Francesca Forrest's "The McKinnock Hill Fox" (2024), signed in both cases, which is one of the lovelier aspects of friends who write. I recommend the latter and am looking forward to the former. Poking at a newspaper for the first time in days, I was glad to see this Globe article about the vulnerability of Boston's artificial land to climate-driven sea-rise quotes Nancy Seasholes, since as soon as I saw the headline I started yelling about her more than twenty-year-old work on this porous and subsiding subject. Speaking of ground, I must say that the excavated gas piping of our neighbood looks remarkably sketchy when exposed to light and air.



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Those pipes look very dicey indeed.
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Made my day!
Those pipes look very dicey indeed.
I'm not enamored of the parking shuffle and the blocked-off roads and the construction juddering us awake in the mornings, but on the other hand I'm not enamored of pipes that look like they broke because somebody dropped them.