Dump! #twoweeksonwolfeisland
I think “dump” is not actually a politically correct term, but that’s what we call it!
So, this sounds weird, but one of the highlights of spending time on Wolfe Island is dumping our own garbage. And you know, possibly also weird, but in my opinion, as important as it is to know where your food comes from, is to know where your garbage goes.
A trip to the dump makes this very clear. You can see how deep the hole in the ground is, and you can see how many other black garbage bags are in there, and you can see it filling up.
You can also see everybody else bringing their stuff into the dump / recycling centre and see how much is being diverted into plastic / cans, glass, cardboard / paper and, more recently, compost – like the green bin system in Ottawa. You can see how it does make a difference, and how much more would be going into the ground if not for the other stuff.
This is also the home of the Wolfe Island Mall. Anybody who visits a rural dump is probably familiar with this practice of people putting aside things that are possibly nice, but not needed anymore. You can find some cool stuff at the W.I. Mall.
One summer day, when we were leaving the island, we decided to drive into the village and park our car in the ferry line while we had lunch. My parents said they’d come in and meet us for lunch as well – they just had to go to the dump first.
By the time we manoeuvered into line and were getting out of the car, my parents’ truck was appearing in the distance. They drove by us, honking their horn, and leaning out of the back of the truck, still streaming tinsel, was a six-foot artificial Christmas tree.
Free from the Wolfe Island Mall.
But the very best thing about the dump? This sign:
I cannot begin to tell you the amount of hilarity there has been in our house over the years about the possibility of losing dumping privileges. I never leave for the dump without one of my boys yelling, “Don’t lose your dumping privileges! Where would you dump?” Oh lord. Life with boys …
