Larimer County

Pickin' beats subbing at the post office any day, without question, in a breeze, in a walk, hands down.  Get it?  I'd much rather be pickin', so pick I did this morning from about 9:45 until 11:15.  I wasn't really sure where I would go as the whole town is crying out for attention, but ended up on Hiway 34 just west of the Donut Haus.  My goal was to go up one side for 30 minutes and return on the other side to the light pole where I had locked my bike.  I never made it.  Looking down at the Big Thompson as I walked along, I kept seeing a ton of junk:  bags stuck in trees and bushes, cans, alcohol bottles, cardboard boxes and what was that--a bike light?  "Don't look," my head told me, "river cleanup day will come soon enough."  Heart: "But some of that stuff is going to get washed downstream.  What if the river rises before cleanup day?"  Head:  "You can't go down there.  It's too steep, and besides, you'll need hip waders."  Heart:  "I'll look for an easier spot."  Head:  "You should ask the boys (Jonathan and Luke) to do that part while you take the hiway."  Heart won.

It was tough slogging.  Trying to get me, bare tree branches, bushes and tree roots popped out of hiding.  Right away I found an 18-inch square piece of insulation in the river.  Let me tell you that stuff holds water!  Wrestling it ashore, I used my feet to squeeze out the water.  Presto (pun intended) soon the insulation was trapped in my black bag instead of the river.  There were the usual wrappers of every description, cans and those heavy, glass alcohol bottles.  They are such pretty colors--mostly greens and browns, that I would like to collect them, but that would never do!  Overall, the winner was plastic bags.  It's easy for them to get blown from the hiway, down the embankment, toward the river.

I filled one bag and hefted it just below the asphalt on the dirt, and turned to go back.  Soon after passing the point where I started pickin' about 30 minutes earlier, discovery was made of a huge (2 feet x 4 feet) brown double paper bag from ACE Hardware.  Perfect--or so I thought.  It ripped easily, but no worries, not 10 feet away was another big black bag with not so much as a tear.  It filled up easily.  That bag didn't willfully go up the hill and onto the highway, but I insisted.  Watching for an opening in the cars, I left it on the opposite side of the street and went back for the first bag.  That was the bag with the wet insulation, which was still pretty heavy. Hearing truck breaks, I looked up to see the familiar bright orange Larimer County truck stopping (and holding up traffic, but they're allowed) to pick up my 2nd bag of trash!  It was Michael McCleary.  Praise the Lord and Hallelujah!  With an eastbound car waiting for me, I scurried across the road with the 2nd bag.  I was not about to miss this opportunity!  Mike tossed it up to the truck bed along side the first one. As I thanked him over and over, he asked what I was doing and told me to watch out for traffic, because "they don't like to slow down."

Even though I do enjoy going through the junk to pick out cans and bottles to recycle, I smiled all the way home thinking how very nice it was for Mike to stop, and how thanks to him, my job was completely over for the day.

Always,
Winter