Malarial Pottery

something in so-called modern landscaping amuses me no end, be it in plush mansions, resorts or some cottages round the bend; seems that to residents who fancy themselves as aesthetically cultured, a well-mown grassy lawn is never considered artistically manicured unless there are antique-looking pots and jars scattered around which must be slightly cracked and partly sunken in the ground, like accidentally unearthed markers for a mummified queen's jewelry, but to ordinary plumbers like me, this is a health-risky, silly mystery; the pots and jars breed bad skitters that inject malaria into your artery, insects don't care if you majored in archaeology, minored in pottery.