Someone built a fence.
It was a split-rail fence at the edge of a park.
It was more decorative than functional, as split-rails are wont to be.
It sat in the sun and rain and over the years it weathered nicely.
Lichen called it home.
Someone was performing landscaping.
Weed-whacking is my guess.
Those rubberized gloves don't breathe.
They also work themselves free if you stuff them in a back pocket and continue to weed-whack bare-handed.
I hope you maintained proper eye and ear protection.
Someone found the rubberized glove and placed it on the nearest elevated surface.
The weed-whacking landscaper will discover the loss, interrupt life, retrace steps.
Even days later.
Imagine the joy.
There it is!
A stranded sea star on a log.
A sad, deflated sauropod.
About as blue as anything.