_{Imperiled House after third storm surge, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 30 January 2022.}

It made it through three storm surges. It’s precarious. It’s stunningly beautiful.

All that said, many of the comments on my FaceBook and Instagram posts about this house are bewildering. Virtual strangers demand information, demand resolution, aggressively impose opinion, make assumptions, and refuse to read previous comments or news reports. I know I’ve used rose color glasses on social media for a long time, but now I totally get why it’s so bad: people demand the grandest moments of life be reduced to 40-minute melodramas. 

_{Underside of Imperiled House, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 31 January 2022.}

Perhaps my biggest sadness arises from the nitpicking focus on the mundane politics of the situation, the petty moralism, and the abject lack of wonder. The plight of this house offers witness to the Earth’s primal power. It shows us the churn of the world. It’s awe inspiring. It inspires me to be grateful for every moment I’m alive and to recognize our fragility. It pokes at my hubris. It pulls me from the everyday and asks me to consider what it means to make anything in the face of entropy.

This isn’t reality TV, it’s the world happening around us. Right now.

I need to learn to write about this event in an affirmative voice instead of being reactive to bullshit. I’ll get there.

_{Imperiled House, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 31 January 2022.}

_{Imperiled House, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 31 January 2022.}

_{Looking North from the Imperiled House, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 31 January 2022.}

_{Imperiled House, Ballston Beach, Truro MA, 30 January 2022.}