Lost and found

Most of the stuff that finds its way into the creek is straightforward trash, but there are lots of things that, when I see them, I know someone somewhere is searching for. Right now some little tyke is looking everywhere for his drink bottle. Or, given the number of hats and drink bottles that my children have left behind at sporting ovals across Newcastle, some little tyke’s parents are looking for his drink bottle. “Have you looked in your bag? Did you bring it home? Ryan! For goodness sake, how many times have I told you to …”

I’m not sure whether someone’s actually looking for this parking fine or not. My guess is it’s been chucked. Fight the power!

This syringe is just trash, rather than lost and found, but like most of the syringes I find in the creek it’s been capped. Either the junkies under the bridge are a thoughtful bunch or it belonged to a diabetic and simply … I dunno … fell out of her handbag.

This sign turned up unannounced. I’ll bet someone somewhere has just leaned on a fence and wishes it was still in place. Ouch!

I’ve added it to the sign tree in our veggie patch. (The Wife’s gone wild this year with beans, by the way; about three kilos and counting. I think this is outstanding, though the kids are starting to roll their eyes when bean curry gets served up. Again.)

This packet of violet seeds is not only unopened but was up on the banking, not down in the creek. So did it fall out of someone’s bag or pocket? Is it part of some guerilla planting scheme? If so, should I be alert or is it time to get alarmed?

And here’s a quiz. I found this wrapper just on dusk and didn’t at first see the product it once held. I was completely baffled: what kind of product is necessary to keep our nation’s topiarists strong and active?

This little carcass wasn’t lost or found but I included it because it was so pretty. My ability with an iPhone doesn’t do it justice but the blues and yellows were iridescent and even the pink of the spine, where the head’s been ripped off, shone against the wet concrete. Whatever ate it really knew how to take a bird apart.

Not lost and found either, but again slightly baffling. I’ve used the system of spreading newspapers on the ground as a basis for a no-dig garden; however, the owners here have missed the key step of removing the newspaper from its cling film wrapping.

And not so much “lost and found” as “lost cause”. It looks like the back of a farmhouse from beyond the Black Stump but, as anyone who lives in Hamilton North will immediately recognise, this is Newcastle Street.

And the product recommended by Australia’s topiarists? Sustagen. Of course.

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