Today we cleaned the ditches along the two miles of Minnesota Hwy 89 we adopted in 1991. It's our thirtieth year! Our adopted section runs a mile north and a mile south from the junction of 89 and County Road 8 near our home. We have unofficially adopted a mile of County Road 8 as well. Since 2004 when the last of the boys left home, Teresa and I have been doing the job alone, which is actually four miles of ditches in total. And the truth is,Teresa has done 90% of the cleaning. She likes the exercise and dislikes my procrastination.
There are only a few prime ditch cleaning weeks in the year. You have to wait till the snow melts and the ditch drains before you can start, and you must get out there before the grass gets too high to see the trash. The main items found are plastic pop bottles, aluminum beer cans and glass beer bottles, followed by styrofoam and paper coffee cups and a variety of paper and cardboard debris.
I hate it when a car hits a deer along our stretch. If the deer doesn't get hauled away, it gradually returns to nature. In some stages nature stinks. Nearby will be broken pieces of chrome and plastic. We're not as thorough as the CSI people, but a piece of tail light stands out a mile away.
Today we only did a quarter of our stretch. We walked south a half mile in the west ditch and back to our car in the east ditch. It was cool and windy and we wore plenty of clothes under our fluorescent vests. Teresa's most disgusting find was a panty liner. I found a disposable diaper. I gave the former owner a half point for putting the diaper in a plastic bag.
I have reached the point of not hating the litterbugs. Perhaps that DQ wrapper in the ditch blew out the window when the driver opened his window to let the smoke out. That plastic pop bottle full of sunflower shells? Maybe the guy or gal accidentally took a swig from the discard bottle instead of the drinking bottle. Choking on shells, the driver slammed on the brakes and gave him or herself a Heimlich maneuver the fender. The bottle of shells meanwhile was forgotten by the road in all the excitement.
The diaper in the plastic bag brought back memories of a trip to Winnipeg in 1983. We had gone to the Museum of Man and Nature there. There were eight of us traveling in our friend's big van. We were just about to head for home when we realized little Joe needed a diaper change. I should have taken Joe back into the museum, but this was before the time rest rooms had diaper changing stations, even in Canada.
So before we left the parking lot, Teresa and I got Joe changed. Wet wipes had been invented by then thank God. This was winter and a powerful aroma filled the van. Our friend didn't say anything, but his eyes in the rear view mirror said it all. I surveyed the area. No one around. I slid open the door and set the tightly wrapped package next to the van. I didn't realize our friend would cut the wheel so sharply. Ka-boom!
There's nothing like an exploding diaper to lighten the mood, as long as no one gets hurt. We didn't linger in Canada. I was relieved to see the gates were open at the border. We had been riding for two hours by then so we were able to say we had nothing to declare with straight faces. I still feel guilty about that diaper so I cut diaper tossers some slack as I walk the ditch.
Biodegradables get left in place
2 comments:
Any opportunity to invent a good story, or recall an old one - you've got the Write
Stuff!
I would have imagined that you also found a mask or two?
Many masks especially by the intersection of 8 and 89.
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