May Seventh, Two Thousand and Fourteen
There is a graffiti artist who tagged several utility boxes, as well as fields, and, most daring, the middle of a road riddled with switchbacks. I’ve been enjoying watching the cartoonish faces pop up unexpectedly, bringing a bit of joy to an otherwise routine, daily drive. I especially like the juxtaposition of an urban art style, existing in tranquil fields and farmland.
This particular installment lives at the top of the rise, just as you turn on Lake Moneysmith Road. I call him Todd, The Wormy Guy.
Seven of Three Hundred and Sixty-Five