Posts Tagged ‘trash’
Declutter Day
It was quick. It was easy. So quick and easy, in fact, that I almost forgot it was part of my day yesterday. There is another likely reason it slipped my mind: it happened at the crack of dawn. A recent acquaintance volunteered to come first thing in the morning to take my collection of accumulated metal scrap. As a thank you to him for doing so, I offered him my old Craftsman riding mower as well.
That became a 2-for-1 decluttering success for me. That mower has been sitting untouched in the shop garage for at least two years. The battery was dead, so I couldn’t start it for him, but we pushed it out of the garage and onto his trailer in a wonderful exclamation point of decluttering.
Taking advantage of finding myself in the decluttering mode, I also finally took action on an inconvenient piece of trash that has been sitting around for years, collecting pigeon shit in the hay shed.
This plastic bucket had a broken bottom but was too big to fit easily in our trash bin. It needed to be busted up into smaller pieces. That’s something that I never found myself wanting to do, so it just got moved around in the shed each time it was in the way of whatever we were doing.
After the scrap metal was easily dispatched, I used that momentum to snap 
that bucket into little pieces that fit into a garbage bag.
There is no valid reason why that couldn’t have happened the very day the bottom of that bucket broke in the first place.
The sun had just barely come up, and I had accomplished a day’s worth of rewarding feats. Then I completed manure management chores and headed to the house for breakfast. I watched the thrilling finish of Stage 16 of the Tour de France on Mont Ventoux, followed by raking, mowing, trimming, and more mowing.
Add in a little jaunt to Minneapolis for dinner with Rich and Gary, where we plotted a September bike adventure in South Dakota, and I found my mind had lost track of how my day had started.
The only thing missing was a nap that I would have enjoyed having somewhere in the middle of the afternoon.
Maybe I can make up for that today…
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Weekly Expedition
Thursday evenings is the usual time when we move our garbage and recycling bins down to the road by our mailbox. Our driveway is about a quarter of a mile long, so it can be a feat that requires some preparation.
Early on, I contemplated a variety of options for managing the bins for trash day. Plenty of rural folk permanently keep their bins near the road in a designated location, and then devise ways to haul their trash down.
I don’t want our bins in plain sight all the time, and I definitely don’t want to haul trash the long distance to them.
One of our close neighbors always drives his down in his small pickup truck. I figure it would work okay to haul ours down in a trailer behind the Grizzly, if need be. We have contemplated, off and on, about the driveway becoming gravel in the future, to avoid the expense of new pavement. The bins might not roll so well over gravel.
For now, just we have for the past 3 years, we continue to walk them down every week. It might seem like quite a chore, and I’ll admit there are times when I’m not mentally prepared when that thought occurs to me, but the effort always ends up being a rewarding experience.
I can’t count the number of times when I have felt awe over taking that ‘forced-chore’ walk outside, at a time when I didn’t think I wanted to, because the experience ended up being so beautiful, fulfilling, and inspiring.
That simple action turns into an epic journey.
I have had the opportunity to spend a week learning winter survival skills at Will Steger’s homestead, to travel to see Olympic games in Norway, to hike in the Himalayan mountains in Nepal, and to experience a few weeks at Ian Rowcliffe’s Forest Garden Estate in Portugal. I returned from each of those experiences a changed man.
There is something about routinely rolling heavy bins of refuse from our house to the road that changes me, too. Every time. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how to describe it, but I’m pretty sure it is what keeps me from putting any serious energy toward devising a more mechanized method of moving them.
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Relative Something 