|Can you believe this isn't even our trash at the end of our driveway?|
TAKEN: MONDAY AUGUST 7th, 2023
As we headed home the Monday of the August long weekend, I witnessed something I hadn’t in out more than two decades of cottage ownership. It was the local garbage truck backing down our private road, offering the first shred of proof that my big tax contributions really DO pay for something.
When we initially bought on Orillia Lake, that first summer, our American neighbours invited us over for lunch. We thought it generally hospitable, then early in the onset of us sitting down we discovered they had a specific ask: Please, 'always keep your garbage picked up’ was their reason for our invitation.
Now we knew we were buying the place from a couple of hippies, that was a given based on the interior décor and paraphernalia, not to mention the Mexican sweat tent located near the water. It was a cash deal with a three week close, so we were relieved knowing they had to take all of their crap with then as part of the agreement of purchase and sale.
Well, we bought the end of November with a December 20th close. It wasn't until spring when we really got a good look at the lay of the land that we discovered there had been a garbage dump at the upper level where we would park our car.
Flashing again to our lunch date, the nice folks from Connecticut informed us that they had previously had terrible trouble with bears, skunks, foxes and other wildlife - as the upper garbage buffet was serving yummy meals, year round, 24-7.
I remember we spent our first twelve weekends just tending with the mess and all these years later, shards of glass show up out of no where after a downpour, as a reminder of the shits show we willfully purchased.