Besides life, the Earth gives us great pleasure. On Earth Day, and on
random other days of the year, Ox and I try to clean things up a little, to pay part of our dues to Mother
At first we saw only two people fishing at the far end of Mint Springs'
dam, while a goose couple pecked quietly
at grasses near the cattails. Ox carried
his invention over his shoulder – an eight foot pole with a net at one end and
a very sturdy hook at the other. This
device is useful for retrieving trash that has made its way beyond reach into the water. We headed to the pond
from the parking lot.
We saw what looked like
a decomposing plastic bag by the cattails . A closer look showed tiny black tadpoles swimming in a milky glob. This was not trash.
We moved up to the dam. Ox retrieved various pieces of floating trash with his device. I held the big garbage bag. Ox’s initial catch included the yellow handle of a child’s bucket, part of a Styrofoam bait box, plastic bags, and a beer can full of water. I'd forgot my gloves, but picked up many cigarette butts, and lots of bits of plastic and paper from the dam.
The wind was cold and strong. Ox wore one of his greasier hats and I, blue jeans with polka-dot gardening boots. Our coats bellied in the wind. Gray hair swirled madly around my head. The wind picked up. I spread my legs a yard apart and crouched. Ox was blown down, luckily not into the water.
We traded bag for pole; I retrieved things from the water and he from the land. Slowly we fought our way toward the young fishers at the end of the dam. They looked puzzled when we wished them many fish, but they smiled back. A couple of minutes after we turned the corner they moved down to the other end of the dam.
The path makes a right angle at the end of the dam; The cliff is steeper and well-treed. A cluster of plastic things gather there in the shoals. We took turns with the pole. Ox retrieved a couple of plastic lids, a job that would have been easier if our hook had been a sharp one. He got a bait box. I tried for and lost a child’s blue plastic shovel, tangled in a cluster of twigs. This was, as many of our targets were, a reach, and I held onto a medium-sized tree as I reached. My hand felt a fuzzy woody thing - uh-oh, a poison ivy root. I wiped my hand on my jeans and we continued. I tried for and lost a red fisherman’s float. Ox retrieved it.
A couple of teen-aged girls came down the path when we were half way around the south side.
“What’re you doing?”
“Cleaning up; it’s Earth Day.”
They tactfully waited until they were on the dam to giggle.
We passed the hole where, some years ago, the underground roof of a beaver’s lodge had collapsed. Down a short path from there I got some pieces of Styrofoam cup. We didn't see any trash walking up the knobby tree roots that make steps for the hill. We walked over the bridges. The second bridge had two foil circles under it; I got them. On the path to the clearing we call Goose Beach we found broken glass, and a trove of garbage on the shore of the beach. We gave up our clean-up around Shelter One, figuring that park employees must police that territory.
Just past Shelter One we came upon three little boys with fishing rods, refugees from Huckleberry Finn. they grinned as they said "Hi" and hurried on towards the path around the pond.
As we walked back to the parking lot our backs hurt. We felt useful, smug and happy.
We moved up to the dam. Ox retrieved various pieces of floating trash with his device. I held the big garbage bag. Ox’s initial catch included the yellow handle of a child’s bucket, part of a Styrofoam bait box, plastic bags, and a beer can full of water. I'd forgot my gloves, but picked up many cigarette butts, and lots of bits of plastic and paper from the dam.
The wind was cold and strong. Ox wore one of his greasier hats and I, blue jeans with polka-dot gardening boots. Our coats bellied in the wind. Gray hair swirled madly around my head. The wind picked up. I spread my legs a yard apart and crouched. Ox was blown down, luckily not into the water.
We traded bag for pole; I retrieved things from the water and he from the land. Slowly we fought our way toward the young fishers at the end of the dam. They looked puzzled when we wished them many fish, but they smiled back. A couple of minutes after we turned the corner they moved down to the other end of the dam.
The path makes a right angle at the end of the dam; The cliff is steeper and well-treed. A cluster of plastic things gather there in the shoals. We took turns with the pole. Ox retrieved a couple of plastic lids, a job that would have been easier if our hook had been a sharp one. He got a bait box. I tried for and lost a child’s blue plastic shovel, tangled in a cluster of twigs. This was, as many of our targets were, a reach, and I held onto a medium-sized tree as I reached. My hand felt a fuzzy woody thing - uh-oh, a poison ivy root. I wiped my hand on my jeans and we continued. I tried for and lost a red fisherman’s float. Ox retrieved it.
A couple of teen-aged girls came down the path when we were half way around the south side.
“What’re you doing?”
“Cleaning up; it’s Earth Day.”
They tactfully waited until they were on the dam to giggle.
We passed the hole where, some years ago, the underground roof of a beaver’s lodge had collapsed. Down a short path from there I got some pieces of Styrofoam cup. We didn't see any trash walking up the knobby tree roots that make steps for the hill. We walked over the bridges. The second bridge had two foil circles under it; I got them. On the path to the clearing we call Goose Beach we found broken glass, and a trove of garbage on the shore of the beach. We gave up our clean-up around Shelter One, figuring that park employees must police that territory.
Just past Shelter One we came upon three little boys with fishing rods, refugees from Huckleberry Finn. they grinned as they said "Hi" and hurried on towards the path around the pond.
As we walked back to the parking lot our backs hurt. We felt useful, smug and happy.
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