Posted tagged ‘trash’

“In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold. “

January 15, 2015

I rued my yesterday’s decision not to go to the dump because it was cold and there were snow showers. I just stayed home and read and fed Gracie her last can of dog food. That, of course, meant I had no choice but to go out today, a rainy, cold and ugly day.

Going to the dump was a necessity. My trunk was filled with used litter, recycled magazines and newspapers and trash. The cardboard was in the front seat. Not unexpectedly, the dump was pretty much deserted. It could have been the setting for some post apocalyptic movie where most of mankind had been destroyed. Only one other fool was dumping trash. Even the guys who work there had sought shelter and were nowhere to be seen. I got wet and I got cold, and my sweatshirt felt heavy from the rain. When I got back into the car, Gracie, dry and warm, greeted me. I sat for a bit with my fingers in front of the blower. Luckily we had only one more stop: Agway for canned dog food, dog treats and litter. Like the dump, Agway was pretty deserted. It had  one other customer besides me.

The older I get the less I abide bad weather. My mother used to keep her house at 70˚ or more during the winter. We all complained and wore t-shirts. Now I understand.

Lots of things drive me crazy, some of them even silly things. On the news, the on-site reporters keep nodding as they listen to questions from the studio. I get the delay, but why do they nod? I want one of them to shake his or her head just for the heck of it. Speaking of the news, what’s with all the repetition? I heard breaking news at the start of the broadcast. It wasn’t. It was the same news and the same videos which had been reported at noon and now again at six. Today I saw the same Patriot’s video I watched on last night’s six and eleven o’clock news.

I’m watching Adam 12. We used to watch it all the time, “One Adam-12, see the man.” It hasn’t aged well.

“I go running when I have to. When the ice cream truck is doing sixty.”

September 28, 2014

Summer has stayed another day. The birds are flying in and out of the feeders, the red spawn has been soaked by the hose a couple of times, kids are riding their bikes up and down the street and the insects are singing. It is a wonderful day.

When I was a kid, my street was visited by so many people doing so many different things. There was the milkman whose bottles clanged in his metal holder as he walked to the back door, the sharpener man who rode a bike with a pedal driven honing wheel and who stopped to sharpen knives and scissors, the trash men who came once a week who carried their barrels behind their backs with one hand, the garbage man who also came once a week, the summer ice cream man who came every day, the junk man who shouted for rags and newspapers from his horse-drawn wagon and the mailman who knew everybody and always stopped to talk. The only name we kids knew was Johnny the ice cream man.

My favorite was the sharpener man. I loved to watch him sharpen knives as the wheel whirled. He pedaled fast and turned the knife from side to side then checked sharpness using his finger across the blade. He never cut himself. That amazed me.

Only the mailman is left, and he uses a truck. I take my own trash to the dump and the newspapers get recycled. My knives are quite dull, but I just bought a new sharpener so I’m hoping for the best. I’m also hoping I don’t cut myself prone as I am to self-inflicted injuries. There used to be an ice cream truck with bells playing a tune, but I haven’t heard or seen one on a while.

My neighborhood is a good one with lots of kids, friendly neighbors and dear friends, but I bemoan the loss of these men from our childhood. They provided services but most of all they provided color, smells and sounds to our lives. I still remember the sound of the wheel and the knife, the clop of the horse on the street and Johnny’s bell, that last one most of all.

“The Sun, with all the planets revolving around it, and depending on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as though it had nothing else in the Universe to do.”

April 27, 2012

When I opened the front door this morning, the sun came pouring in then just a little bit later it disappeared. It’s appeared again, and Fern is lying straight out on her back basking in the sun. A breeze makes the day seem colder than it is and is strong enough to sway the bird feeders, but the birds don’t seem to mind. Male goldfinches with their bright yellow chests, a pair of cardinals, my friends the chickadees and the nuthatches and titmice are all dropping by for a late breakfast.

I have nothing planned for today. I’m thinking a sloth day. I’ll make my bed, brush my teeth, feed the animals and that’s about it. I see an afternoon nap in my future.

There are leaves on the top of the oak tree near the deck. The leaves are tiny, but I don’t care. They are the first stirrings of spring in my yard beyond the blooming of the bulbs I planted last fall. Some of my neighbors’ trees are already leafy, but those trees sit where the sun warms them most of the day. I think it won’t be long before my trees are leafy enough to hide the deck, and I’ll be back to sitting in a tree house high above the ground.

When I see movies where one of the characters is told to pack a bag, grab her passport and leave on the next plane, I always wish I had a job like that, one where exotic places become almost commonplace, and I know the best restaurant where the locals eat, probably a small place on a side street that only a discerning eye could find. I guess I’d have to be a spy for such spontaneous flight as a job in business would be far more planned. No question about it: I’d be better suited for being a spy than a businesswoman.

My trunk is filled with the week’s trash, litter and recyclables, but I’m not going to the dump. Last week I went on Friday and upset the fragile balance of my world. Gracie and I will wait for tomorrow and all will be right with our world.