Cones | Wenatchee, WA | November 2019

The man flagged me down in the parking lot and said, “Hey, there were cones back there! Didn’t you see the cones?” Yes, I saw the cones. I ignored them because they weren’t doing any of their regular cone jobs — to warn, to guide, to delineate. They (in photo) were just hanging around on empty asphalt. Last summer I was driving along a rural road and came to a line of cones that shunted me onto the shoulder. I followed the cones for a hundred yards to a gaping gash in the roadbed — a chasm, really — dug deep by a flash flood and now completely encircled by cones. Their stand-up presence was warning enough for me to stay clear, but I steered closer for a better look. “Back off!” they seemed to shout. “Can’t you see we’re cones?”