A week or so ago, my front porch downspout, a fickle friend…responded to the call of the wild, shook free from shackled moorings, sailed with wild abandon toward Blaydon Loop, and settled quietly in a stranger’s front yard. New home, new beginnings…alas, no.
Through various postings on social media, the delinquent downspout was promptly retrieved, scolded and reassigned to post, promising under duress to behave.
Yesterday, wanderlust struck again and assisted by winds of 80 miles an hour, made a farewell speech and set sail again, permanently resettling on distant shores, I know not where.
I have a stash of downspouts in the garage; a collection of other criminals recaptured but never claimed by owners. I never wanted my downspout anyway as they are given to open seas, New York winds, the vagaries of the Lake and the promise of dangerous adventure…
690 Saint Paul 