No Respect

To filch a line from Rodney Dangerfield, "I get no respect."

There I was Saturday, at the end of a long day of filling yellow bags with litter.   At one time I was cleaning up the most dangerous spot on the highway, dangerous because of buckling in the pavement.  Things go flying when drivers hit those bumps without slowing.   Lots of things to pick up there, so I was fairly tired while I was finishing up another site a couple miles farther away..

My bag was full and heavy.   I was trying to reach my truck without tying off this bag and beginning another because I was only a hundred yards or so from my truck where water and a Mandarin orange waited to revive my energy.

Then, the litter gods intervened.   This is what they threw in my path:

As if I needed more weight to carry. 

I get no respect.

Philosophy, Continued

No Plato, Aristotle, or Socrates for me.  I prefer feasting on philosophy in smaller bites.

Like, refrigerator magnets:

Love those philosophical refrigerator magnets.


(By the way, I have a wonderful, knock-your-socks-off idea for a post.   Next rainy day, I'll get it up here.   In the meantime, litter picking calls.)

Look at that -- three prepositional (not philosophical) phrases in a row.  

Course Prerequisite

Some leadership ability preferred.

Alder Bashing on Memorial Day

This is how I spent Memorial Day.

This is an alder, before it leafs out.

I took a photo of it because it's growing all by itself.   Usually such is not the case and alders grow in large patches, their limbs intertwining in an almost impenetrable mass.  Note there is no single trunk, but myriad limbs that grow outward and then upward.

When they grow on steep slopes, it is sometimes easier to fight your way into the center and then look for the path of least resistance, hoping your arms don't get scratched up any more than they already are.

Below is how I spent Memorial Day.   It was the hottest day of the year so far.  My thermometer at home reached 82 degrees!  The evening before was rainy, and I actually built a fire in the wood stove to take off the chill for the night.

I've tried a couple times to take a photo that accurately conveys the steepness of this slope, but every time I think it doesn't come up to muster.   Or, perhaps when I'm bashing my way through these miserable limbs in search of beer bottles and dirty diapers and McFast Food wrappers, it simply seems more of an incline.  The upper part of the slope IS steeper, as you can see in the upper left of the photo where you can just make out two guard rail posts.

This particular area, at Mile 50.5 of the Seward Highway, is one of the worst for litter.   People seem to think if it's hidden in the brush, it isn't litter, so very little is left at the top where it's easier to clean up.

I'd cleaned half of this about a week ago, and yesterday went back to get the rest.   In between, someone had dumped a tote full of packaged frozen meat.   That tote landed at least 30 feet into the brush.  The meat thawed and was well on its way to putrefaction.  It smelled awful.

I lugged all of it to the top in one trip, and it was heavy.   But the worst part was keeping an eye out for bears because they would be attracted by the stench.  Fortunately, the alders haven't leafed out and visibility is good.   For  that reason alone, I don't go into the brush after they leaf out and visibility is reduced.

A little farther along, in the area I hadn't cleaned up, was a hard shell plastic tonneau cover, apparently blown off the bed of a pickup.   What fun I had dragging it uphill, through alders, in the heat,  the shattered edges catching on every alder and blade of dead grass.   NOT!

Nothing eats alders.   Moose prefer birch and willow.  The only thing alder is good for is smoking salmon.

And that's how I spent Memorial Day.

Looking for His Love in All the Right Places, but One

Ah, Romeo.  Juliet isn't here.   You missed her, maybe flew right past her on your journey north.

Romeo waiting for Juliet  this week.

 She's in a sanctuary for injured swans in Washington state.   I hear she rules the pond where she is free to leave whenever she is capable of flying. 

The arrow loosed by some lunkhead pierced her wing and lodged in her breast and did damage to her wing muscles.  They don't know if she'll fly again.


Remember the day you last saw her, the day Tern Lake was freezing?   You waited and waited and circled and circled, even left the fleet and came back.  But she couldn't join you.

Juliet in the moonlight in a near-frozen lake.

We helped her  that cold autumn a few years ago.  She was in the last open water on the lake and it froze solid that night.   The next morning she was caught and taken to the Alaska Sea Life Center in Seward.  (Boy, can she run fast!)  They found her a temporary home at the sanctuary.

Romeo this week.

 We watch for you every spring and autumn, and you always come back.  Keep doing so, Romeo,   Maybe someday she'll be here waiting for you.

The Tax Man Cometh and the Tax Man Taketh

Something to look forward to:

Next year the Infernal Internal Revenue Service will assume responsibility for enforcing the taxing  provisions of  Obamacare.

I assume that since the tax man will then be involved in our health care, the IRS will modify our tax return forms to include a box to check if we are an organ donor.

Thus, if you don't send in your arm and a leg on April 15, they can come after you for a kidney, too.

Some Days You Can't Win......or Lose

I know.   I've been neglecting this blog.   Been too many days since I've told you what's going on.   Two things:  1) I've been sulking about the cold weather, and then, 2) It's litter picking season and I've left parts of the highway blooming with yellow bags.

So, yesterday I parked in the driveway of a seasonal-use cabin.   My plan was to go south and then north, filling yellow bags.   A young man named Sam came out of the neighboring cabin and I asked permission to park there.  He thanked me for what I was doing and said he might join me one day.

We chatted a while and then I started.  I was on a schedule because I was going somewhere that evening and didn't want to be late.   I'll tell you about that in a big post coming up--when I have time, that is.

I went south, crossed the highway and worked my way back.  I tied off the bag and reloaded the fanny pack in which I carry extra bags....and couldn't find my work gloves.  I looked all over.  They had to be here.  I'd taken then off when I tied off that last bag.

I couldn't find them.   I got an extra pair from the truck and set off north.  As I bent over to tie a bag, I saw my gloves.   I'd stuck them inside my safety vest when I'd tied off that bag back at the truck.   Some days you just can't win.

That's the arm opening of my vest.

I walked on, filling bags.   I reached my intended destination for the day and left the bag on the shoulder of the highway as I picked up a few items around that area.   One of those was a red plastic beverage bottle.   I tossed it towards the litter bag.   The opening of the bag was facing away from me. 

Guess where the bottle landed.

Right in the opening of the bag.

Some days you just can't lose.

When I returned to the truck, I saw an envelope stuck under the windshield wiper.   (Actually, to tell the truth, I didn't see it until I pulled out onto the highway.)

Aw, gosh.  Look at this, a gift from Sam.

Some days, you really can't lose.

I'm off again.  There are beer cans and McFastfood wrappers calling me.