tree dominated an island framed with red, white and blue windmills, created from bleach and fabric softener bottles. Across the road stood the ladies’ ‘wash room, a standard wooden outhouse, with a small glass window. ON the other side of the road was the Enchanted Forest, a fantasia of recycled objects and recovered toys. Amy keeps a wooden box there with orange drink and cookies for guests. Tourists from around the world have signed the guest book. “I send a lot of them Christmas cards,” Amy told Us, “And I got a card last week from some people who said this was the second best place on the Island. They didn’t tell me which was the first best place!” The

dump, as Amy calls it in her down-to-earth manner, is open for refuse disposal on .Wednesdays and Saturdays. But Amy may be found there on

her off days, sometimes picnicking in the Enchanted Forest with tourists. She spends a lot more time than she is paid for in order to keep the area immaculate. “No one is going to get glass in their tires as long as I’m around,” she said, showing us a collection of bottles she had planned to take in for refund. She expected to get 8 cents apiece for them. “It all counts up,” she said. “I come down here on my off days to work on my park,” she said. She’s too busy for such work on Wednesdays and Saturdays when a steady stream of vehicles brings refuse to the dump. But Amy is never too busy to visit . . . to offer sympathy when called for. . .a bit of wise advice. . .or to listen to the ideas of visitors. “I had a call the other day from Ken Bolton” she told us. Bolton, a former P.E.I. newspaper man, now works for the Canadian Broadcasting Company out of Calgary. “It was a nice, four way conversation and I talked to his friends” she said. Amy, apparently, had no idea that her homespun philosophies were broadcasted over the radio during that call, but, if she had, it would not have bothered her. Amy says her dump is the only one she knows of, that is a tourist attraction with its own guest book. “It’s really allin fun. What is life for, if not to have a little fun? Some people are so dead serious,” she commented, recalling the time she offered to make toast for a gentleman from a toaster plugged into a tree.” He looked plain scared. . . Couldn’t see it was in fun” Amy laughed. “I want to name all these roads and mark them with signs.” Amy told us. “What would you suggest?” “Well, I’d call this one Windmill Drive,” I suggested. Amy’s eyes crinkled with delight. “Good idea. That’s what it will be.” Next time we visit, we expect to see the sign and, perhaps, she will have named the road to the excavatiOn, Last Chance, so that people driving it can reconsider before throwing away items that still have a lot of life in them.

But, for Amy, it is people, even more than things, that matter. She is more concerned lest people throw away values, than the trinkets and trivia- As we were driving away, she was walking towards a car to greet a local family. “How are ya? What can I give ya?”

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