I have looked at these barrels every day, multiple times some days, and I love them. I love how they are different colors, I love how the iron rings are slowly drifting down, I love how there is a forgotten broom between them even though no one ever rakes the leaves around, and I especially loved those few months when they provided my Chilean neighbor some “privacy” as he worked out in the driveway next. I’m so glad I don’t know how to say “Wow, you have no shirt on,” in Spanish, because I surely would have. I have no idea what the barrels were originally for, perhaps wine casks, but then again they are quite large. As tall as I am. And every time I see them and don’t hit them with my right bumper at full speed, I send a little thank you out to the universe, and my gold Opel, despite its shitty turning radius.