Tuesday, November 10th, 2020

Several trees on the way to work are missing limbs. Last week’s storms didn’t do it, at least directly. Each was cleanly amputated. The city’s trimmers must have been at work while I was gone. Some trees had doubled trunks. Which trunk was removed looks arbitrary now, The choice might be clearer if I were to see both together again. Branches are piled on the sidewalk. Most are gathered neatly, though some are scattered. On the street where I get my packages, the claw of a trash truck tries to pick up piles of branches and other debris. It has trouble getting a grip on them. It lifts what it can grab. Much of what it gets falls out. A workman with a broom sweeps what has landed into a neater stack. It tries again. I cross the street to avoid walking under it, then cross back a half-block further down. I can only cross the next street from this side. A temporary fence has blocked the sidewalk on the other side beyond the intersection for as long as I have been walking to my office. Halfway to work, rain starts to fall. At first, it’s just a few drops at a time. The sound when they hit the sidewalk blends with the noise of distant construction. About a block from work, it begins to fall much faster. I hold my shoulder bag over my head. I’m wearing a dark shirt and jeans. They won’t show how drenched I am.