…during an early winter snowstorm earlier this year in the one college town that I now live in:
1) The bookbox out across the street from the local library is gone, leaving just a stand with ragged nails sticking upwards from a large squarish flat board that forms the very base of the top pedestal.
2) By the pathway to my back cottage, there’s sheets of discolored snow towards the house, and there’s just enough of it to make me look closer and realize that it’s not from some animal pissing, but rather dirty water dripping down from the roof and trickling down through heaps of snow that had fallen off of the roof, creating sheets of like light beigish-brown snow on the top.
. . .
(At the local public library, the deskworker there wasn’t aware of the bookbox issue, but asked around and found out that it wasn’t vandalism or something, but rather a precaution that people take whenever there’s a huge snow and there’s a risk that ploughs or something will go by and the snow they kick up will take it down inadvertently.)
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