I have a friend who loves good old junk as much, if not more than I do. Actually, I have a few friends that like old junk... which makes me ponder on what basis I am choosing my friends, haha.
Living in farm country, there are stashes of green and blue bottles all over from when the old farms would cart their trash to a hillside and dump it over, blue Ball canning jars and all. So to my girlfriend, I say, "oh, I know of a great little dump in the woods...." and she agrees to tag along. I should mention that she lives in the city. Far from trees and woods and snails. Those snails I'll come back to later as they play an integral part to our junking experience.
We drive a bit and then hike. And hike some more along an old unused country road, which just happens to be covered in four foot high grasses at the moment. And since it has been just about the spring of endless rain here, it is covered in dampness. And snails. Not a few snails here and there, oh no, but to the point that when our legs brush against the grasses they fall off by the dozen into our shoes.
Crunch. Squish. Squash.
In the middle of the tall grasses we look down and there are hundreds and hundreds of snails where ever we look. I begin trying to think of marketing schemes for escargot. And we hike on.
We made it to the little dump but the mosquitoes ate us alive, we grabbed a few bottles and high tailed it out of there, our children left to fend for themselves. Okay, not really. We found a dirt field to hike out on.
Never a dull moment with the Hagarty's. Next time we'll wait till the grass is cut and it hasn't been raining and I'll tote along some bug head nets.