On Sunday morning I picked up trash in Fletcher Moss Park. We had purple reflective vests that said "Didsbury Village WI" so hopefully no one thought we were doing some kind of penal service, gloves, long-handled grabbers, and handy frames with bungee cords to hold a trash bag. The weather gods smiled (claimed as tribute, my sunglasses tumbled into my bag of trash while I was struggling through some brush), so outside a little early morning frost it was a nice walk along the river and the outer rim of a park large enough for us to come across a field of cattle.

The haul was mostly bags of dog business, which is more wholesome than it could have been as far as litter goes. And yet it's somehow less annoying to think of Youths leaving behind beer cans than it is to think of someone taking the trouble to tie up the little bag and then thinking "I'm not carrying this around, I'll just toss it into those bushes". I also met my new least favorite Type Of Guy: the man in fancy outerwear who said "Could I be cheeky and put this in?" and handed me a coffee cup from the la-di-da bakery. Most unusual finds of the day were an empty bottle of mouthwash and a pair of underpants.