When my trash is your treasure, the planet is a better place

German pottery: blue-grey, salt-glazed, heavy, and lovely; formerly Mum’s, now Jane’s 

By the end, all that was left was one inherently unattractive flowerpot. I didn’t want it, and clearly nobody else did either. But that one pot represented an almost complete victory for me this past weekend — our city’s semi-annual curb-side give-away weekend. What had started out as a motley collection of miscellaneous household and gardening items with a few kitchen utensils thrown into the pile had been reduced to that one pot. I will next place in the back lane — our year-round ‘please take it off our hands’ give-away spot — hoping to never see it again.

I’ve come a long way since my early childhood when my mother’s penchant for finding treasures at the curb filled me with shame.

One time, Mum had been driving me somewhere in the little German village where we were living (my father’s work had taken us there) and 9-year-old me expected to get to that destination without incident, but Mum had other plans. It was garbage day and all along the curb was trash waiting to be collected and also, apparently, the occasional treasure — for which Mum had an eagle eye. All of a sudden, she braked in front of a large piece of pottery: grey with blue brush-stroke accents. Very distinctive and, apparently, exactly what Mum wanted to add to her collection.

a Citroën 2CV or ‘deux chevaux’ (two horsepower) 

— distinctive, identifiable, unmistakable 

as Mum's car in our little village

While she stopped the car, I ducked down in the backseat of her unique Citroën 2CV and whined, “Mummy, Mummy — someone will see you!” Undeterred, Mum got out and claimed the pot that she was thrilled to have found — even if at the curb, on garbage day, with anyone seeing her pick it up. Mum’s treasure was a Rumtopf, a large lidded pot in which to preserve fresh fruit with rum. Mum loved it and used it happily for many years. The Rumtopf is long gone, but several smaller pots remained in Mum’s kitchen through to her death earlier this year. Too heavy for my sister or me to take them home with us, our family friend Jane gladly took them and they now reside in pride of place in her kitchen.

Throwing things out is not the easiest task these days. We all know that our garbage doesn’t just magically disappear, it simply adds to the local landfill. So, if we can move our unwanted ‘stuff’ along into someone else’s hands and home as a found treasure for them, it’s good for us and good for the planet. And it’s totally acceptable. This past weekend, people strolled by our house, stopped in front of our motley collection of things, looked, picked up, considered, sometimes put back but sometimes took with them (almost) all those items that we no longer wanted or needed. Those people were likely happy and I was definitely thrilled. Shame was nowhere to be seen.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Car photo by jötâkå on Unsplash