North Carolina mornings don’t get much better than this one.
My walkabout started at 6:15 (fortified by the omnipresent go-cup of strong French roast coffee). Really, there’s no doubt this is the best part of the week; quiet and calm, accompanied by birds that sing for whatever reason they sing. Not even the discarded yet unopened water bottle laying curbside less than 200 yards into my walk had me cursing (that would come later).
None of this, however, delays what becomes a busy morning filled with the odd assortment of debris. It never ceases to amaze me that this amount of clutter can accumulate all along the same route in the span of 24 hours – but it does and always without fail. I’m glad I don’t trod other paths; it would depress me to find even more thoroughfares lined with even more junk.
So onward I plod and can boast of new finds never before collected the past couple of days; a car aerial that now doubles as a walking stick and a fresh pack of baby wipes. I thought I’d seen it all.
I plunked down the bag filled to the gills with litter on the driveway. Just out of sight behind a holly bush were 5 other over-stuffed bags I just hadn’t gotten to pouring out earlier in the week to photograph for trashy posterity. It took about 30 minutes to dump each bag out, arrange it tastefully for a damning photograph, then further sort it out by trash type for the recycle bin.
So it was a Sunday morning that wasn’t too different from others before it. The volume of junk is always roughly the same; it’s just what’s in each bag that differs.
Here are the prior days of debris. It’s sordid, too: