This phrase has taken on a whole new meaning for us as we note the trash littering the quarter-mile of frontage road between the “T” with the county road and the state secondary road. The quarter-mile between our house and the “T” is, of course, litter-free because other than us, no one else uses it except the church, and we are not pigs (well, at least when it comes to public land). But even sadder is the collection of empty half-pint plastic whiskey bottles along that section of the road, all of them are the same cheap Canadian brand. I know of one confirmed alcoholic living in the area, but he is retired, and the bottles he threw out were cherry-flavored vodka. This is someone else, a whiskey drinker, who can’t be bothered to carry the empty bottle the short distance to his house and throw it away there. We suspect someone stops off at the package store after work, buys a small bottle, chugs it down on the way home, and tosses it out the window as he turns onto the frontage road. About 15 of them were littering the road at last count. There were many more than that, but they deteriorate in the sun and then when the tractor that pulls the mower comes by it crushes them. New beer cans appear every day, along with sacks from the McDonald’s that is quarter-mile further down the road. We pick up the beer cans for recycling, but it is just very depressing to see the litter. The crews that go along the highway to pick up litter, courtesy of the county jail, don’t provide that service for the frontage roads
