Garbage Society

Last night, while in the midst of preparing dinnercarriage, and of us going to the Sunday market
with Charlotte and Prad, I was reminded onceat Neuville, the closest town to our village. There
more of the amount of garbage and recycling wewe got sardines, and fresh fish from the covered
can generate in one sweep. It is tremendous. Forfish market, 'rillettes' and 'boudin noir' from the
dinner alone, the list was quite long: one plasticcharcuterie, and goat cheese from the goat
container for mache salad, one plastic containercheese man. We saved the boulangerie for last.
for raspberries, two glass beer bottles, two largeThe line was long, and I did not mind. I knew I
Ziploc bags for fish from farmers' market, onewould be rewarded for my patience, as my
plastic bag for lettuce, one paper bag forgrandfather always made sure to get 'un carquelin
mushrooms from farmers' market. The plasticpour la petite', puff pastry with caramelized sugar
bag, and the Ziploc bags, I threw in, although Ion top. No plastic bags then, only thin paper bags.
was not even sure they could be recycled.To carry all our purchases, we each had a 'filet a
Plastics are a complicated matter, and I was a bitprovisions', an almost weightless net-like bag that
distracted when I read the recycling guide fromhad the advantage of taking no space when
the city, a while ago. We are a garbage society,empty, but that could hold a lot. Once back at the
and I am a part of it.farm, my grandmother would store all the
I am old enough to remember the days, whenperishables in the 'garde-manger', a cool place in
the garbage collection was only once a month.the cellar especially designed for that purpose. We
There was no recycling then. The milk and yogurtdid not know what the word environment meant,
came in glass containers, that we brought back toand we did not need to.
the merchant. We got five centimes for eachI long for those times, of living in harmony with
bottle. A lot of the fruit and vegetables camenature. And I also know to beware of easy
from our garden. My grandmother had asentimentality. Life on the farm was extremely
'cassette', a wooden box with a wooden handle, inhard for my grandparents. My mother did all she
which she carried the products of her dailycould to escape, and ended up marrying a man
pickings. For meat, she would just kill one of thefrom the city. I laugh when I see the recent
rabbits or chickens that she raised. Milk cameplethora of books, glorifying the virtue of going
from our cows. Cows were a big deal on ourback to the earth, and the old ways. I am a bit of
farm. Many times, I heard my grandmothera cynic in that respect. For a healthy dose of
complain about having to get up so early to milkreality, I recommend reading Little Blog in the Big
the cows. One of my most favorite memories isWoods.
of my grandfather lifting me up into his horse