The first thing I noticed when we first found the property was the shipping container. The trash was just pouring out of the thing. You couldn't see very deeply into it and the trash pile was about four feet high at the entrance. We didn't explore it the day we found the place, that came later.
One of my favorite container stories took place the weekend after we met Collette and were given permission to look around.
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| This is the container as it appeared to Jack and Me in the story following after. Of everything you see here, almost none of it remains today. And the rest is about to go. Our house will sit just behind the un-named thing about one-third of the way from the left of this picture. |
Scanning around I saw a foot sticking up from somewhere near the entrance. As it turned out the sound came from a white teddy bear buried head first in the trash. I pulled it out and it chuckled once more as it hung upside down from my hand, me standing up near the ceiling on a pile of broken furniture. I left Teddy sitting on a head-board to scare off any other demons lurking around.
Yesterday, once more, I heard a human sound coming out of the remaining debris. A little stuffed animal was singing Elvis Presley's: "You ain't nothing but a Hound Dog" right up until I threw it out onto the pile. A pile of what remained of the people who did this to the land before it became what will one day become the Creekside Farm.
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| This is the container after we scraped most of the ground. Our home will sit about fifty feet to the left and fifty feet behind where this picture was taken from. |
That's how this whole thing has gone so far. Long intervals of waiting for things to happen and short intervals of really sweaty work digging through trash.
Today you can see most of the trash in one long glance.
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