It was spitting rain on my ride home from work today, but it dried up for my ride to meet K. for dinner. That doesn’t mean the air was dry, of course. It was seriously thick out there. I rode home up Annunciation, and near Philip I snapped this picture of a house lit up, with this tiny bit of fence in the front. I kind of love that little fence. It’s a hint at what might have been here: one of those lovely wrought iron fences that surround so many houses here, and provide so many places to hang beads. But it’s just a suggestion. So it’s not actually a fence, not actually here to mark a wider boundary of private property than the one sketched by the house itself. We get the beauty of the fence without all the stuff fences connote. Now, I’m sure the story of how this bit of fence got left here, off to the side of this house, isn’t nearly so deep as all this. I mean, it’s probably here because the rest of the fence was ruined by weather, or car accident, or rot. But that’s the great thing about riding a bike around this city and paying attention–you get to tell yourself all sorts of wonderful stories.