Garbage bins don't move themselves.
Frankly, I don't know what I was thinking. Yesterday morning, we both realized that we hadn't put out my friend's garbage bin. Her place is far enough away from ours, to warrant a car trip ( about 2km each way ). Never mind, I thought, the truck usually only makes its appearance in our village at around 9 am.
As it was only 7.30 am, I told Bob that I would walk to her place and put out the bin. Off I went, using the shortcut next to the forest. Well, as I looked across the valley to her side of ' town ' I saw the flashing lights of the garbage truck. Good lord, why were they so early? Putting pedal to the metal or rather thrusting my gait into a half gallop, I just hoped that they would collect from the outlying houses first.
When I got to her place, the only way to see whether the truck had been, was to lift the lids of someone else's bin. A very graceful move indeed! Hopefully no one was perusing the road from their window, but in a small village I am not so sure about that. Sadly, the truck had beaten me to it. ( By the way, it seems that Bob and I make a habit of missing the truck. Funny blog story )
The rest of my walk was at a more leisurely yet still brisk pace. When I had stopped muttering about missing the truck, I took my self to task because I had forgotten my camera. The vineyards were cloaked in a sheet of mist that bathed the whole area in a veil of mystique. At times just the tree tops peeped out on top, almost making it appear like an island.
On the way home, I met a hitherto unknown neighbour and had a brief chat with her. As can only happen in a small village, while we were talking outside her house, a tractor stopped next to us in the road and the driver joined us in conversation. Another neighbour. Just those few minutes of talking about nothing & everything, made my day!