On Refuse and Rumination.

My walk this morning took me past the gates to the big house where the landlord lives. He and his wife own most of the Shire and many of the houses in it, including the one in which I live. It was bin collection day and their refuse bin was standing on the verge opposite the gates ready to be emptied.

I noticed a gift-wrapped parcel on top of the bin and went over to take a look. There was a card with it on which was written a Christmas greeting to the refuse collectors. It struck me that here was a kind thought, and then it seemed a little odd – or at least interesting – that people who openly encourage the killing of birds in the name of recreation should have a kind thought for the men who collect the waste.

I try not to judge, but merely observe. I’ve speculated often enough that perception is the whole of the life experience, and I still believe that it is.

And then I remembered the Christmas when I left a small gift for the refuse collectors on my bin. When I went to collect it later I found the lid open, the gift taken, but the bin still full of refuse. I couldn’t decide whether to smile or scowl at the irony.