Thursday morning I heard a commotion out on 14th Street, so I stepped out onto my porch aerie and peered down in order to see what was going on.
A concrete truck was parked in the street and a man was hosing down a section of the street, a section of which I’m quite fond.
I should interject that I’m well aware that I have peculiar tastes in landscape and vegetation preferences. I’ve accepted that most of my fellow citizens don’t share these preferences; the result is that I’ve seen many favorite spots obliterated in the name of progress over the years, and I’ve learned to silently console myself with memories.
I went down to the street; I had a murky idea that some exposed bricks, a window into the days when 14th Street was a brick-paved street, were about to be covered up with concrete.
Here’s the spot I was worried about:
I approached the man, who now was directing his hose into the storm sewer. Generally I enjoy talking with street workers, who often appreciate the opportunity to explain what they are doing.
I said, “Nice morning, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, this is one of those days when I appreciate working outside.”
“Where’ve you been pouring?”
“Oh, we had to replace a section of sidewalk up the street on Hampshire. The boss told me to come down here to the storm sewer to clean out my chute.”
I was relieved to hear this. We chatted desultorily about street work for a while, then I bade him farewell and retreated to my apartment. My favored little section of revealed brick street was safe for a while longer!