Long Hollow

What were you thinking? 

This is our neighborhood! There are no public trashcans lining this road, only wildflowers. Keep your cans in your car! (No, your car is NOT too good for your own trash.) 

Listen, I am not your mother. Heck, even if I was, I wouldn't be cleaning up your trash. If you're not old enough to clean up your own garbage, you're sure not old enough to drive or drink beer.

Hey, while we're at it, what were you doing drinking while driving, anyway? It's a dirt road but that doesn't make it okay. We live here!

Can you believe it? Here I was, walking down my dirt road this morning, amazed at the beauty around me – the explosions of yellow and purple and green, the promise of a clear sky – and then, there it was, lying right on the edge of the road: a Miller Lite can. It was empty, but shiny. Brand new. It must have appeared after last night's rain because it still reeked of beer.

Shaking my head and grumbling, I picked it up and dumped the dregs out onto the ground. Belle ran to investigate ("No, Belle!") then jumped up, trying to snatch the can from my hand, thinking it was a toy. ("No, Belle!")

She listened. My menagerie and I walked on to the curve, turned around and headed back, and there, a few feet off of the road, hidden by the grass from the other direction, was another can!

It's not the first time we've found cans along our road, sad to say. We're not sure where they come from – joy riders, or perhaps guests leaving a wedding at the villa down the road? 

It doesn't matter. I just can't believe there are people out there still tossing their trash out their car window, as if little brownies or elves scurry around cleaning it all up. Grow up, people! Get responsible for your own trash, your own messes, your own lives. Quit dumping your garbage on our road!

Whew. Thank you.