Drowning in Plastic

The alternating vortices of winter. I am ready to point my facial solar array towards the sun and produce more vitamin D than the grid can handle.

The bamboo flute scratched my lips a bit, but I played on. Jared finger-picked a melody on his bass ukelele. Beren spun in circles, and played another bamboo flute. I thought, "I don't want to buy anything plastic ever again." 

Music (playing or listening), walking, or other forms of moving meditation bring on unusual and improbable thoughts. As the thought sunk in, I felt inspired, then doubtful and then wondered how I might wean myself from plastic. 

No plastic wrap on vegetables from the market. No plastic toys. No plastic pots in the nursery. No buttons. No shampoo, lotion, toothpaste. No lots of things. 


Beren and Jared test the latest almost garbage-like 'toy' - a huge cardboard tube that dispensed landscape fabric for the nursery. Beren likes to call down the tube, "What's goin' on? What's goin' on? What's goin' on?" 

We recently had the Vietnam Veterans Association's Please Pick Up truck come by and remove a pallet (a pallet!) of usable items from our home. Books, clothes, shoes, furniture, toys, household items. 

We live in a small house. We are not accumulators. And yet, the pile of things we didn't want grew, as I combed through the house. I spent a couple hours boxing up the items. I brought them to the porch while Jared ferried them to the pallet we put in the front lawn. A pallet 4' x 4' and at least as high full of stuff. 

The arrival and departure of Please Pick Up truck was wondrous. It occurred while we were out, but I am sure that a rainbow shone in the sky above our home. A weight lifted from my being. Shortly thereafter, I organized our tax-related paperwork. All surfaced were liberated from items. We vacuumed. We rearranged the house beautifully.  

The snow has, unfortunately, caused a re-accumulation of crap. A snowstorm. A box arrives in the mail. I save it so Beren can paint it. It dries and becomes a ship for stuffed animals and fake fruit. Another snowstorm hits. I pull down a couple puzzles form the attic. Another snowstorm. I bring up a six foot long cardboard tube that once had landscape fabric for the nursery on it. It had been in the basement (eek, our loose block floor basement over dirt) for a year. Beren races cars through it. Another storm. We build a tent with it as the center beam. Another storm. I give Beren an egg carton, mail, anything he can rend apart.

I'm ready for long lasting outdoor stints. I am ready to point my facial solar array towards the sun and produce more vitamin D than the grid can handle. I am ready to turn my back on the accumulation and see spring.

Tree buds are swelling. Birds are singing. It's just a matter of time.