The important thing to remember when dumpster diving rain barrels is that you need to know what was in them in their former life. Because if their former contents were poisonous, then you don’t want to be using them to collect water for your garden in, no siree. So in the case of rain barrels, it’s good if you have a connection at the trash depot. We do, and he (high fives for you awesome trash guy) sometimes puts barrels aside for us when he knows that the contents were harmless. Some of these came from him, and some of them used to be other people’s rain barrels. Who knows why they tossed them. But who knows why people toss a lot of things.
Have you scavenged anything good lately?
Read about why I do a “dumpster find of the week” series here. Or check out some of the other treasures I’ve pulled out of the trash here.
Then one awesome lady surprised me with by sending a long winter jacket she didn’t need anymore in the mail. A few days later I found a second jacket, the one I am wearing in the rather too dark picture above, in the trash across the street to boot (to jacket!). The gifted jacket may or may not fit until month nine, but if it doesn’t this jacket is big enough for both the Beard and I to wear at the same time. And it’s really warm. And it’s lined with fleece. And it’s not a hideous color. And once Peanut is here she’ll fit in the carrier under the jacket as well. As usual, three cheers for the trash!
Read about why I do a “dumpster find of the week” series here. Or check out some of the other treasures I’ve pulled out of the trash here.
Heh. Just discovered this little ditty about a romance that ends prematurely once the lady discovers her new duder is a garbage picker. Great story. Great punchline. Someday I will make a dumpster diving themed mix tape and this will be on it.
I always feel extra great when I can intercept a useful item before it lands in the dumpster. I dream of a world where grocers put out all of their throw-away food for people to take home with them. Wouldn’t that be beautiful? A world with fewer dumpsters and more free boxes? Yes, yes it would. *Eyes glaze over with daydream juice.* And now let’s get back to the real world, where unthinkable amounts of edibles are tossed every single day and grocers defend their edible trash with padlocks and legal charges.
I’ve been anxious to get back to dumpster diving lately—it’s been a good six months since I’ve been out (and it’s been a good six months since I’ve been pregnant, no coincidence there). And now I find myself wondering if I’m even going to be able to fit between the space between roof and fence at my favorite spot with this beach ball beneath my ribs. Let alone whether I’ll have the balance to climb a fence at all, or the energy to stay up past ten pm. So instead of pining for dumpster booty this week, I got back into an old habit and a great way for folks a bit too wary to root through any trash but in need of free eats: I went to the farmers’ market and asked around for leftovers.
If you’re the shy type, you might feel a little nervous about doing this at first, but usually the folks behind farmers’ market stands are kind and friendly. At this point I know which stands give and which stands don’t, but when you get started, you just walk around asking if that stand has any discards that they would be willing to give away. Of course many people say no, but no one has ever been rude. Beggars at farmers’ markets are standard, and you certainly won’t be the first person that has ever asked them for leftovers. Though a lot of stands don’t give—many feed their extras to their livestock—enough always do to keep us in produce for at least a week. As you can see from the picture above.
I posted the first “dumpster find of the week” blog in March of last year. What started as a post to show off a mother load of old wooden boxes that we had found (that I later turned into Frankenshed) became the (almost) weekly series that you know, and maybe even love.
But why bother? Why parade random objects before your eyes on a weekly basis? I’ve never stopped to explain the whys and wherefores, and I thought, well, no time like the present. With all this parading of objects, it seemed like it might be easy to get the wrong idea, the idea that this whole dumpster diving thing is more about materialism than anything else. And it is about objects in so far as dumpsters are full of objects that can help you out. But! Lo! It is so much more.
I show you pictures of dumpster dived objects every week because I want you to know what it is possible to find in the trash. I want you—whoever you are, however you live, and whatever you do with your time—to know that almost everything you need can be obtained without money. I want you to know that the silver lining to the dark cloud of living in an incredibly wasteful time and place is that you can feed yourself, clothe yourself, and shelter yourself by dumpster diving and scavenging, that even if society has disowned you or pushed you right over the edge you can live like a queen on the scraps.
I want you to know that you could work less if you satisfied some of your material needs and desires through objects scavenged rather than purchased. And I really, really want everyone to know that dumpster diving and trash picking are nothing to ever be ashamed about or embarassed of. Don’t wrinkle your nose at the lady rooting through the trash. That lady is you in another set of circumstances.
One of my favorite quotes on the subject of dumpster diving comes from the CrimethInc book Recipes for Disaster. “Burdens lift and scarcity is averted when the mountains of trash produced by this insane society become supplies and sustenance. Everything that sucks about capitalism is inverted when the dumpster diver scores. Poverty becomes abundance. Loss becomes gain. Despair becomes hope.” Glory glory hallelujah.
I’ve been cleaning out my shed to make room for the baby carriage—until now parked in a spot where it wasn’t completely covered and was getting hit with leaves and the occasional rain and bird poop—which has meant I’ve been carting things over to the trash across the street. Most of it was stuff I’d gotten there in the first place and, despite my best efforts, hadn’t ultimately found a use for: a rather ugly cabinet, a beautiful wooden box/potential cabinet that I never managed to get open, some stray styrofoam I didn’t end up needing for the insulation.
Last night on my very last trash run I found this:
At first I had been thinking that we wouldn’t really need a car seat. After all we don’t own a vehicle, and we rarely ride in cars. But, then I realized, duh, Black Diamond tour. Because the next time we go on tour little Peanut will be coming with us (along with someone to babysit while we’re on stage). So now that we have the car seat, any one want to give us their seven-seater van?!
And while we’re talking about dumpster-dived kids’ stuff… Almost six months ago I also found this stroller (pictured below), which will be a nice light-weight alternative to the transformer warrier (the thing can fold into so many different shapes it’s ridiculous) carriage that will be Peanut’s main ride.
Just kidding. Owning a vacuum cleaner has nothing to do with being conservative. But since a lot of folks we know like to make jokes about the inevitable journey to squareness that is expected to occur when you get married/have a kid/pass any other coming of age water mark, when the Beard mentioned that we should probably buy a vacuum cleaner before Peanut arrived, he made the obvious joke.
There is little need for a vacuum cleaner in a tiny house with no wall-to-wall rugs. There is plenty of dust, thanks to the wood stove and the constant traffic between outdoors and in, but we sweep, I wash my floor (which I sealed with yacht sealant just for this purpose) with hot water and vinegar once in a while, and I beat out my two throw rugs with a woven wicker carpet beater. But vacuums do manage to do the job more thoroughly, and as is the way of these things, we waited and waited, and eventually a vacuum showed up in the trash across the street. Thanks dumpster gods.
When I think of dumpster dived shoes, I think of something I once heard someone say about life in Germany after World War II. “We always had to wear used shoes,” she said. “There wasn’t anything else. And they always gave us foot problems because they would be worn in funny.” Today she refuses anything but brand new footwear. Understandably.
Luckily the shoes to be had in the dumpster aren’t always used. Although I have found my fair share that were used lightly enough so as not to cause a funky step—fashion trends inspire most folks to toss their footwear long before their print has been stamped into the sole—the first bit of today’s dumpster find is this untouched pair of boots. Says T: “These are brand new boots my friend found for me. They came with a tag saying they’re Intermediate Cold Wet Boots and instructing me not to become a Cold Weather Casualty!” Which is a good thing, seeing as T lives in a really fucking cold part of the world.
A few weeks later, she sent me another picture: this time an entire boat-full of goods harvested from the trash.
The inventory, all taken from the same dumpster: 3 bicycles (not pictured), 1 bike trailer for moose hunting (which T says she paid for, but “foundby wandering around the dumpster asking people”), 4 folding doors (soon to be a desk and shelves), canning lids (new in boxes), 3 sets of sheets, beautiful flower painted tin tray, basket, and ceramic crocks for pickling. Hot damn.
If you want to read more about T’s life in her little cabin in the woods (she writes about rewilding, living in the woods, magic, and sex work, among other things), then skip over to Eco Whore and take a look.
Pallets. They’re everywhere. In Germany at least, some of them have Pfand on them (that is, a deposit that you get back when you return them), but all the ones not tied up in Pfand end up in the trash. I’ve used them to build sheds, and I especially like to chop them up into kindling, but making really sweet furniture out of them never even occurred to me.
One of our stops on the Black Diamond tour was an absolutely delicious (gorgeous! let me stay here forever!) squatted tennis court. On the edge of the city but completely surrounded by trees and inhabited by birds, the inhabitants have fixed up the old clubhouse and made it into a pretty little home.
We played outside between an old Russian car (see photo above) and a bonfire whose smoke almost caused a calamity during Silver Dagger when I was certain that the pinnacle of my punk rock career had finally come and I would throw up on an audience–which I miraculously managed to avoid, by the way–to folks sitting on pallet furniture. I don’t know how exactly they were built, so I don’t have any specific how-tos for you, but I took a bunch of pictures hoping that, if any of you were interested in creating your own, you’d be able to figure it out from the visuals.
The morning following the show I watched a fellow work on putting together another bench-table set from across my regurgitations, but I admit it: I was too bleary to take in any of the construction details. That turned out to be one of the worst days in recent record (even though the show we played that evening with Blackbird Raum in Recklinghausen was pretty awesome), the day when I finally gave up on wearing a seat belt and rode the highways from the bed in the back of the van, coddling the pot in which I had decided to keep my head. You know, now that I think of it, that pretty much sums up the whole Black Diamond tour for me: shows awesome, Nikki puking behind the van. Maybe I don’t need to tell you any more tour stories after all…
But vomit aside, if any of you end up building something like this (or have already), share the pictures with us, purdy please with a pallet on top. I for one would love to see what else can be done with them.
