Wednesday, March 19, 2008

To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump

In the town where I live, there is no garbage collection.

You have to take your trash to the dump yourself. (It's offically called the transfer station, but everyone calls it what it is: the dump.)

But as dumps go, it's a pretty cool dump.

There's one section referred to as the Duxbury Mall, where people leave "good" stuff that you can take: rusty bicycles, moldy wicker rocking chairs, 30-year-old blenders, dusty fake Christmas trees. You name it, you can find it. (My son once got a bizarre wagon/scooter combo that the kids in the neighborhood referred to as "the Demented-mobile.")

In addition to the Duxbury Mall, there's a trailer called the Duxbury Book Exchange!


You take books and leave books. It's awesome!




Now, granted, they aren't always the greatest books...


This is the children's section.

Now, granted, they aren't always the most current books. This one is from 1954.

Every time I go there, I worry that I'm going to find one of my books.

2 comments:

susanwrites said...

Oh wow! That book room is something else. Thanks for bringing back fond memories of going to the dump with my grandfather. My mother hated it and I loved it, always looking for buried treasure. (But I'd have to hide whatever I brought home for a few days and not tell her that it came from the dump.)

Jennifer said...

Barbara-- I'm laughing... my husband LOVES to go to the dump. We've actually gotten some pretty cool stuff that way. (Though I have to remind him from time to time that we don't NEED 5 weed-whackers...) I wish we had a book section.