What started out as several delicious-looking clouds in the east and a few encouraging sprinkles has become a wonderful April snowstorm. We hurried with what passed for breakfast. As a measurable snowfall was actuallly forecast for our area, I had to get out pickin' before all the discarded tissues and bits of paper would be mistaken for or hidden beneath the snow. I'm kind of like the mail man you know: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." Well, I'm not sure about the "gloom of night" part--it's kind of hard to see trash in the dark and you might pick up something really scary, but I have made a pact with myself (what more trustworthy and agreeable person could I find?) to pick up trash every day for a year. I have defined "trash" as at least 5 things not naturally found along a street or sidewalk and 25 cigarette butts. If I can beat the snowstorm, and get my pick accomplished for the day, I'm out the door. If it happens that 3 or 4 inches fall during the night, and I cannot distinguish a cigarette butt from a little twig or a Coke can from a snowball, the gig's off for the day.
This morning was perfect--just a light rain--so off I went to an area known to be littered with litter. Just about any place in town could qualify for this disgrace, but I had a certain rocky hillside in mind. Ha! Granny to the rescue. I gave up bending down to pick up the offending items long ago, so before my pickin' stick even got warmed up, I had 210 butts in my black bag. This particular place was just nasty, so I didn't plan to inventory my "treasures" after returning home. One such treasure, however, really was just that and went right into my inside jacket pocket--a Hamilton! That, as my Gram used to say, is a "ten spot." Not bad for 45 minutes of pain in the rain. (Normally this activity for which I have developed such a fondness is total joy, but today, my shoulder decided to give me some grief.) It was all good, though, as the rain turned to a wonderful wet snow and my haul (what a great word to describe a pile of junk-- no, worse--discarded junk) was 2 black garbage bags, a pile of tin roofing and a hubcap. Sorry about picking up the hubcap if you're out looking for it. It's been my experience that even if I left it there for you to find, guess what? In a week it would still be laying sadly by the side of the road waiting for the car with 3 hubcaps to drive by. I can't just leave it there.
After 45 minutes my jeans were soggy and my leather gloves frozen, so what better place to warm up than a shop called "Coffee on the Rocks. Where the coffee is as great as the views!" And all the trash is in the waste basket.
Always,
Winter
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Last Saturday in Estes Park, along the Big Thompson River just south of Starbucks, we observed a man in hip waders pulling the trash out of the river. He handed the soggy stuff to his wife who stashed it in a bag. A big thumbs up from us to them brought a brief nod in return.
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