I had a teacher in Grade Eight (that's nearly sixty years ago) who was the object of great mimicry by her charges. She was old and -- to us -- odd, so she was easy to make fun of, at least by us thirteen-year-olds. I suspect that nowadays, if I knew her, I'd like her. But back then we just found ways to make jokes about her. Sigh.

She had old ways of speaking, for one thing. For instance, when she assigned us work to do in class, she would pace around the classroom exclaiming from time to time, "Be looking down!" The joke among the barely pubescent pupils was that she was adjusting her underwear and didn't want to be seen.

In any case, in the ensuing decades I have found myself looking down a lot. And so, today, while crossing a busy intersection, I spied this tiny house at the foot of one of the street signs.

I've no idea how it got there.