It's unseasonably warm for November, sunny skies, just all around beautiful outside -- except -- somebody threw their weekend garbage along the highway on the half mile stretch between our house and my work.

That inconsiderate act is eating away at me. I need to go out (when I can find an extra hour or two of daylight) and pick it up because I love my community and want it to look nice and welcoming for us locals, passers by and visitors.

This episode is far from the only one. Once it took my daughter, granddaughter and me at least six large black leaf bags to clean up the roadside after someone decided to defile us rather than use a garbage can. It was a couple of days before I had time to get out there; but once our clean up started, people honked their horns and waved like crazy. A couple of friends later commented that they "hoped someone would clean it up." (If not you, who? If not now, when?)

When I was growing up, prolific highway signs warned of up to a $1,000 fine for littering. And, of course, my dad would never tolerate littering; we were expected to pick up after ourselves.

One weekend Dad took me up north with him to go smelting. It was late and fog was so heavy that we crept along barely able to see the white line. A highway patrol car pulled up behind us, and the officer walked up to the car and chatted with Dad about the conditions. Unthinking, I rolled down my window and tossed out a Kleenex. Suddenly realizing that I'd littered right in front of an officer, panic ensued and I froze waiting for my arrest. What would Dad do if he had to pay a $1,000 fine?

Fortunately, the crime went undetected, but the fear was indelibly imprinted. Though the fine currently is only up to $700, Dad taught me to respect the land God gave me, and that's deterrent enough.

The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness of it, the world and they who dwell in it. Psalm 24:1