Trash

Once the snow cleared there were remnants of the winter crowd all over the parking lot. Those generous people left gifts of spilled trash bags, empty bottles and underwear in our big parking lot. Yes, underwear. There is a litterbug going commando somewhere in Minnesota.  So yesterday the kids and I headed out to clean it up.  This is a fun job to do with Tyson because he can get involved.  He loves to work.

You know you are important when you get your own pair of work gloves.  Nevermind that some fingers never found their individual finger holes.

Not far into this affair we found the garbage bag was too heavy to carry.  Enter: the wagon.  Now he could really feel like a professional, bringing in his own equipment. I let him run across the campground by himself to fetch it.  Never was there a kid more proud.  

Once the wagon was full, we had to trek over to cabin 3 to show his father.  Tyson felt Dad wouldn't want to miss his wagon full of trash and pipes and wood.  Even a boot covered in concrete--perhaps the best find of the day.  (Don't worry, Rick is working in Cabin 3, not living in it.)

                                          
After we finished the parking lot, we worked our way through the rocks that line the marina, on up to Big Rick's house where we pilfered his deer feed.  The deer have been coming back around and grazing in the grass by our house. I really want to get them hooked  and keep them coming back. I wonder if there is something they just can't turn down, like catnip-- but for deer.

Big Rick was working in the campground and spotted this nest of Killdeer eggs.  It's right in the ground, not protected or covered at all.  Amazing!  What are the odds of all 4 surviving? Dogs, kids and campers will be   crawling this place soon. The mother bird was off to the side screeching at us but not getting close.  So she has the alarm system in place, but no way to execute an attack on us for snooping around her business.  I hope she doesn't realize she could use her beak.  I have a slight fear of birds and beaks and dirty little claws.  Ish.

PS-For all you people in Washington, "ish" means yuck. I'm debuting it on the blog so I can fit in. I don't know how to spell it though, so that could totally blow my cover.