6 a.m., Nov. 1
It’s gonna be a raw one.
As I shove off in the early morning gloom, it’s very clear the weather forecasters nailed it: cold, rainy, windy. Where are the 80F temps from just a few days ago? It will be one of those days.
I can only hope my go-cup of ultra-dark roast coffee will last me all the way around. I’m usually lucky if it makes it halfway.
As trash picking up jaunts go, this will be iffy at best. Every rain-splattered leaf shines like plastic. If I literally don’t step on something, chances are good I won’t see it in the darkness.
But big sheets of plastic and shopping bags tend to stand out, so those are among my first claims.
As predicted, I’m down to cold dregs of coffee almost precisely at the halfway mark on Fairview Road just past Philips Place. With the liquid warmth gone, my gait shifts from the typical cavalier pace to more of a giddy-up.
The pickings are rather slim by weekend morning standards although the bag is slowly but surely filling up with debris. In something of a surprise for a post-Halloween morning, my first adult beverage containers don’t reveal themselves until the last 500 yards or so along Sharon View Road. One is a Coors Light can. Why is it always a Coors Light can along this stretch of street? It’s a called shot.
This practice will be repeated Sunday morning. A guy can only do the best he can. Still, both mornings are the best time of the week for me. A little exercise in the quiet dark, and a little more litter removed from circulation. I can deal with that.