Spring Cleaning “What are you doing?” Our neighbour´s little son suddenly appears in the yard with his collie. “I´m just clearing up a bit.” The dog sniffs at me, and I let him lick my hands. If I had known they would pop in, I could have left a titbit for him. “Old junk, you know.” “What have you used that one for?” He bends over the chain saw. “If you want to throw out really large items, it´s much simpler if you take them apart first and carry them out in pieces.” I show him the last bag before I throw it into the boot of our old estate car. ”Where´s Larry?” ”Larry? He´s moving out.” ”Are you going to move too?” He picks at a scab on his mud-brown knee. ”No, I like it here.” I pause for a second to take a look around me. I love the sight of the red farm buildings in the spring sun. At the rubbish dump I sort out my boxes and bags carefully before putting them in the proper containers. I wave at a farmer who lives in our neighbourhood. I have a feeling the men at the dump are sending me curious looks.
