It was time to go to 3rd Street for a wig check. Last time I'd gone by, in March, it was still hanging in (or on) there, on a fence near Staples, its locks glossy as the first day I'd glimpsed them, all the way back in October '10. On the way to 3rd, my mood was a little tense. Surely it couldn't survive forever, but if it was still there, it would seem like a good omen.
From a distance, I couldn't tell. I would have to fight my way through summer foliage.
I was not disappointed! Sheltered under a green canopy, the wig looked as good as ever.
All praise to the gods for this symbol of constancy.