It bucketed down. Flooded all over town.
I have to admit to heading out purely to make some pictures, although I didn’t fess up to the nice gentlemen in blue when they informed me that I could go no further around the lake and asked where I was headed. Twice that morning I negotiated the deepening water almost blocking the road to our house, only to decide “just one more”, and head back out again, wondering whether I would, indeed, get back to our driveway the next time.
Yes, there were some floody pictures there, and cars splashing around, and great buckets of water falling out of the sky; but to me the most poignant were those I made yesterday, 5 days later, as I walked up the stream close by. A stream adopted by the locals and regularly cleaned and cared for now. Full of downstream debris again.
As I sat by this little cascade, a couple of plastic bottles, with their lids neatly screwed on, swirled and danced amongst the scurrying foam, sucked back again and again, to be popped back up and around, ad infinitum it felt. It wasn’t their fault. And they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Just imagine though, if we cared enough when we purchased stuff to consider what might happen to all that packaging, all that wrapping. To have this picture in our minds eye when we considerately dropped it into the rubbish or recycling bin even. For it’s what happens next that often takes these things off on their merry way, while we congratulate ourselves for doing the right thing. They blow out of overfull bins, off trucks carrying them to the dump, get redistributed by many means that are not part of our consciousness.
I see the wind and water do their thing, and these little bits of plastic pushed hither and yon down streams and then backwards and forwards across the lake. Unless of course the fish and birds have got to them first.
We humans make good stuff. Lasts for years.