In the Other Details

On May 18, 2016May 18, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Modern Life, Trash2 Comments

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, animals can camouflage themselves and render themselves easily missed by my pathetic human eyes, but, as it turns out, so can some trash. A brown plastic bag half-buried in dark earth is barely more visible than a toad amongst leaves, and a faded can of strawberry Fanta covered in long, dead grass hides itself as easily as a moth against the bark of a tree. Other bits of garbage are fortunately more obvious, even if it’s a green Heinekin bottle under long blades of similarly green grass and stinging nettles. I see you, brilliant blue Bud Light label, and you, you bag of ranch-flavored sunflower seeds. (To which I say: is that really necessary?)

I also see the curious looks I get from the more regular trail-walkers when they catch me knee-deep in garlic mustard taking a picture of a beer bottle. With my unkempt hair, old rubber boots, and muddy jeans, I’m certain that I look more bag lady than responsible mother. Once or twice I’ve tucked my phone in my pocket and pretended to be birdwatching just to save my reputation. (Because birdwatchers are such exemplary people? I don’t know.) I guess I should hold my head high and just tell them I’m a trash-collector who writes a blog. I just haven’t gotten there yet.

Portrait of a Cup from Cici’s Pizza

On May 14, 2016May 14, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn TrashLeave a comment

Inside the hollow of a tall tree, surrounded by tendrils of new poison ivy, lies a paper cup from Cici’s Pizza, red-and-white striped straw still emerging from its depths. Since it is inside of the tree, no one can see it, or at least this is what the owner of this empty cup believed. He looked at this nook and thought “trash receptacle.” No matter that others see the same space as a home for wild animals, or tree nymphs, or gnomes. Imagination varies wonderfully from person to person. Thoughtfulness, however, is usually a more constant trait.

Trashology, Part 2

On April 29, 2016April 29, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Environment, Monocacy River, TrashLeave a comment

Most of the trash I find is repetitive and unremarkable: soda and beer cans, plastic cups and bags, miscellaneous wrappers. On occasion, however, I encounter something curious, unique either for its innate qualities or locale, and when I find these things, I photograph them, catalog them mentally, and move on. But now it’s time to settle up and, piece by piece, present to you my sideshow of the strange and remarkable Trash on the Monocacy.

A bird whistle?

It says it’s a Glo-Coater Wax Applier.

In case you didn’t pick up your spork.

I haven’t figured out the make and model yet.

I wouldn’t trust it.

I think that’s Snoopy. Or maybe Woodstock. Definitely Peanuts.

And, last of all, in my Pollyanna-ish moments, I like to think that someone placed this bottle so conspicuously on this branch so that they could come back for it later. When I’m objective, I realize someone was just, well, not thinking. But, when I’m tired and cynical, this looks like someone flicking the bird at the river. Today is wet and gray, so I’m thinking definitely the bird.

The good news: none of this trash is on the Monocacy anymore.

Your Servant

On April 25, 2016April 25, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Modern Life, Trash1 Comment

Choices, circumstances, and the general vagaries of life have led me to my current occupation, the title of which seems to change according to time or point of view. What I would have called a “housewife” growing up, is now, for the most part, a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM), but other terms I’ve heard used include domestic engineer (blah), domestic diva (ick), or homemaker (eh). In any case, the job comes with no pay or social security benefits, lots of judgement and guilt, and repetitive tasks. Of course I’m very lucky to be able to stay at home and rely on someone else’s income. It’s a privilege to be available to help at my sons’ schools, take them to their appointments, and field the emotional crises that their needs dictate. It is wonderful to be able to adapt my schedule for my husband’s honestly difficult and stressful job. My troubles are that of a middle-class white woman living in America, which renders them the least troublesome of all troubles in most of the rest of the world. I am intelligent enough and unselfish enough to see that. But sometimes I do want more. Not more things. Just more. And it’s out there.

Collecting the Monocacy’s trash and writing this blog is part of the more. What’s ironic, however, is how much the task can resemble my occupation. After all, what am I doing, really, but cleaning up after people? Usually the debris is so random and spread apart that the cleaning is rendered impersonal and therefore can assume an abstract expression of environmentalism. There are times, though, when I just feel like some stranger’s beleaguered mother. There is, for instance, an area on the “island” that a group of people use for a campfire every weekend. When I’m doing my rounds on Sunday or Monday, I find, in addition to their ashes (which are dangerously close to a massive pile of dried wood, leaves and other kindling-like materials), beer cans, food wrappers, and miscellaneous garbage. A photo collage would do the scene justice:

In case you’re wondering, yes, that is a silly putty egg. There was a deodorant cap, too, for the person who, I suppose, while sucking down his beer, noticed his pits stank.

But I’m not judging. Oh, well, of course I am. And isn’t that where this problem started? I feel judged and so I judge, and we’re all a little more unhappy even though we imagine we’re the opposite? There are days when I feel tremendous joy and gratitude, when I understand how very lucky I am. And then there are days when I feel as if I’ll never get to the top of the trash heap (or is it the bottom? I’ve gotten lost in this metaphor). Either way, I’m here, and so is the trash. And so is the river.

A Bridge Over

On April 16, 2016April 16, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Environment, PhotographyLeave a comment

There are so many irresistible, pop-culture puns on bridges, and all of them are awful and overused, therefore I will not finish the title of this blog with a nod to Simon and Garfunkel. I refuse. Because you can finish it yourself.

I’ve done a pretty poor job lately of pointing out the beauty in the ugliness of the Monocacy River, as I originally promised to do in my “About” introduction. Really, there’s just too much conventional beauty this time of year to focus on the unconventional, or, at least, it can seem so when you when you shut your ears and imagine away what doesn’t suit. In fact, as an urban river, the Monocacy can be a loud, brown, smelly place, particularly where I walk every day. For instance, as I took this picture yesterday, I was inundated not just by birdsong, as the peaceful photograph suggests, but by the windy roar of cars passing over the bridge to a nearby highway, the distant grumble of a jet on its way to Dulles, and the industrial drumming of a helicopter landing at the local airport. (A fun fact: sometimes the helicopters I hear are carrying the president to Camp David). Also, there was a distinctly fishy smell emanating from the bank below, not to mention the sulfuric funk traditional to standing water mixed with rotting organic material.

I could drift into poetic enthusiasm about the joy of witnessing a kingfisher dive into the river and emerge successfully with a minnow in its beak, or how the setting sun sparkled on the miniature tributaries in the muddy shallows, or how a swallowtail slipped through the trees in mute conversation with the goldfinches and cardinals, but there is another truth. The kingfisher’s bickering chatter competed with belching diesel trucks, the water was choked with muck (and a random metal grate), and the swallowtail flitted over cellophane and alien species choking out native wildflowers. If I am a reliable narrator, which truth do I share with you?

The first photo?

Or this?

Teasel

On April 9, 2016October 28, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Environment, Trash, WildflowersLeave a comment

Teasel is what is called a “noxious weed.” Spiny throughout, from leaf to stem to seed pod, it grows tall, branches out, and lasts through winter as a brown, hollow version of itself. Even as I trample it, it catches and tears at me, scratching my hands, pulling at my boiled wool jacket, yanking my hair. It shreds holes in my garbage bag, too, forcing me to abandon my trash-gathering task earlier than planned, but it’s hard to resist venturing into the thistle, when tattered plastic flaps from its bones like a poor man’s banner.

Trashology

On April 7, 2016April 18, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Environment, Monocacy River, TrashLeave a comment

Yesterday, just for fun, I recorded the brand of every piece of trash I gathered. I was exploring new territory, an open meadow with lots of prickly shrubs that I usually avoid (see the sign above), and the quantity of cups and cans overwhelmed me. There was much more than I could carry:

Deer Park Water

Mountain Dew (Diet and otherwise, many times over)

Dairy Queen

Sheetz

Monster Energy

Bud Light

Wegman’s

Harris Teeter (migrating trash, apparently)

Powerade

7-11

Coca Cola

Domino’s

Olive Garden

Utz

Starbucks (for Tammy, whoever and wherever she is)

Pepsi

Tropicana

Rockin’ Refuel

Fanta (orange)

A&W Cream Soda

Gatorade

McDonald’s

Rita’s Italian Ice

I brought all of these home, some for the trash can, but most for recycling. Unfortunately, the city only gathers the recycling every other week, so I always end up filling the recycling can, bin and extra cardboard boxes of my own to overflowing. I’m a little concerned about how much more trash warmer weather will generate. I might have to start begging my neighbors for recycling space.

Trash from the Past

On April 1, 2016April 10, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Environment, History, Monocacy River, TrashLeave a comment

I guess I’ve always had a thing for trash: digging for it, documenting it, and treasuring it. While the blog’s subtitle calls me a “girl,” by now it should be obvious that I’m long past being any such thing, at least in externals. I’m old enough to have accumulated a number of identities, and one of my favorite ones, one which I thought was never to be picked up again, was archaeologist. In my twenties, I got an advanced degree in Greek, Latin, and Archaeology and did some digging for a few summers at some classical sites. It’s actually not as exciting a job as most expect. While I was in the trenches, tourists often asked whether I had found any gold. I smiled and said, “no,” because I understood that they meant the shiny mineral, but I had found some of my own gold: potsherds, pieces of glass, dirt floors, roads, foundations, and even a tiny marble head. In other words, I had found ancient trash. And, to me, it was fascinating.

The trash I’m finding today could be the treasure of tomorrow. So should I feel bad about picking it up? I’ve decided no. What I find is shreds of plastic, tin cans, agricultural waste, bits of clothing, machine parts, et alia (see, I do know Latin), that has floated down the river. Its lost its cultural context and, therefore, is of little future value for those who may wish to understand us, say, 1,000 years from now. In other words, there’s no need to give myself a pat on the back for leaving a yogurt container to be buried in the sand.

There are active archeologists (note the different spelling for those who work in North America…wow, I am such a geek today!) working along the Monocacy River. In fact, there is a large Native American settlement off Biggs Ford Rd. that has been excavated multiple years by the Archeological Society of Maryland. From approximately 1000-1500 AD, it was occupied by peoples of the Montgomery and Keyser Complex. For more details and pictures from the 2014 expedition, see the link below.

http://marylandarcheology.org/2014_Field_Session_Biggs_Ford.php

Oh, and it’s April, so happy Maryland Archeology Month!

Variation on a Theme: Tires

On March 31, 2016April 3, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn EnvironmentLeave a comment

Tires. Lots of Tires. In the water, on land, buried in mud, stuffed with leaves, lacerated, worn, big, heavy, and all dumped at the river. I have no idea how to deal with them. If I can dig them out, they’re still too unruly to walk home, especially through a neighborhood with distracted kids. And, even if I do get them home, I have no way to dispose of them. Since Frederick City has no bulk trash pick-up, I either have to hire a dumpster or rent a truck to haul the tires to the dump myself. Maybe this is why the tires are here in the first place. Maybe it explains a lot of the trash I find at the Monocacy. Taxes aren’t particularly low in Frederick City, and it seems to me illogical and uninspired not to use some of them for a public service that might well serve the environment as well as the city’s people. So, here’s a message, Frederick: Bring back bulk trash pick-up.

The Trash of Which I Do Not Speak (or Photograph)

On March 17, 2016April 3, 2016 By trashonthemonocacyIn Dogs, Environment, Family1 Comment

Yesterday, my labrador retriever turned 13 years old. She’s lumpy and bumpy, the ACL she had repaired years ago is clearly aching with arthritis, and she’s deaf and even a little smelling-impaired, but she still wags her tail when she sees her leash, insists on car rides to the woods, and pulls me like a dogsled when she sees a body of water. She and my other dog, a nervous 4-year-old rescue of unknown lineage, accompany me on most of my walks along the Monocacy. I take bags specifically for their messes, which I pick up and, despite the smell, carry with me for miles until I reach my trash can at home. It can get a little disgusting some days, but it’s worth it not to leave their piles to filthy the river or someone’s shoes, or even just mar the view. Besides, I’ve decided that if anyone is idiotic enough to attack me, I could swing the bags in their face and they’d likely decide I wasn’t worth their trouble.

While I am happy to pick up my own dogs’ messes, I’ve decided that I absolutely will not pick up the messes of anyone else’s. I know that I should, and feel guilty when I pass by the melting piles of it, but I just won’t. So, you won’t hear about this particular kind of waste, or see a picture of it, in or out of a bag, in this blog. It exists, of course; I’m just pretending it doesn’t so that I don’t activate my gag reflex on a daily basis.

There are those who will argue that there shouldn’t be any dogs on nature trails. The untended messes are part of these protesters’ arguments, but they also object to the dogs’ invisible marking, which scares off other wildlife. Dog-lovers, on the other hand, argue that their companions compel people who might otherwise just sit on their couch binge-watching TV shows to go out into nature and, as they learn to appreciate it, decide to take action to protect it. As a traditional peacekeeping middle child, I say let’s have it both ways, maintaining natural areas where dogs are not allowed and other areas where they are encouraged by making available waste bags and plenty of trash cans to their responsible owners.

Anyway, I hate preaching. And I hate picking up poop. And I’m not talking about any of this ever again.

TRASH ON THE MONOCACY

Tag: Environment