From Trash to Treasure
There are some chores in life that feel… well… like chores. The kind you procrastinate. The kind you sigh about. The kind you tell yourself you’ll “get to later.”
And then there are the chores that become memories.
During the winter months, my son and daughter-in-law travel across the U.S. and into Canada photographing the Amsoil Championship Snocross Race Series. Long weekends turn into grandma duty, and I happily take my shift. My daughter-in-law’s parents and I rotate care, and when it’s my turn, I know two things for sure: we need fresh air, and Emery (now 3½) will want to be outside no matter the season. The challenge? My backyard is simple. No swings. No playground. No built-in entertainment. Just open space… and whatever the wind decides to deposit.
Because my yard is exposed, it tends to collect all sorts of blowing debris throughout the year. Bits of paper. Stray wrappers. Mystery items that clearly did not originate in my flower beds. It’s an ongoing battle along the property line and tucked into the nooks and crannies around the house.
Last year, when Emery was only 2½ and it was just the two of us for the weekend, I stood at the door staring at that yard thinking, How do I make this fun? And then it hit me. “Emery,” I said with exaggerated excitement, “do you want to go on a treasure hunt?” Her eyes lit up instantly.
We created what I now call the “Let’s Pick Up Buzzy’s Yard Game,”though in her mind, it was simply a treasure hunt. I handed her a small bag of her own, and off we went.
Was I doing most of the actual work that first year? Absolutely. But she felt important. She felt included. She felt like we were on a mission.
We walked. We searched. We discovered. Every tiny scrap became treasure. Every wrapper was a victory. And the best part? We were outside together, breathing in fresh air, moving our bodies, and doing something useful.
Fast forward to this year.
Before the girls arrived, the weather had been mild and most of the snow had melted. The yard once again revealed its winter collection of wind-blown “treasures.”
I decided to play another round of the pick-up treasure game. To my surprise, Emery remembered. Be still my heart.
This time, she wasn’t just trailing behind. She was leading the charge. She scanned the ground with purpose. She proudly dropped each find into her bag. She even ventured into the neighboring yards on both sides, determined to clean up anything that had blown beyond our borders.
Autumn, now 18 months, toddled along behind her sister. She didn’t fully grasp the mission, but she was part of it, absorbing the rhythm of teamwork, while watching her big sister model effort.
We gathered quite a haul. And in between collecting debris, we noticed birds. We talked about the wind. We counted steps. We laughed.
Were we just picking up trash? Yes. And no. Honestly, I think we were building something much bigger.
We were planting seeds of responsibility.
We were showing that work can be joyful.
We were demonstrating that caring for your space matters.
We were modeling that even small efforts make a difference.
When my son and daughter-in-law saw the pictures and videos, they were thrilled, not just that the yard was clean, but that the girls had been involved in helping. They saw their daughters learning that effort leads to results. That helping feels good. That even ordinary tasks can be meaningful.
Of course, we’ve had a few windy days since. The yard isn’t perfect again. But maybe that’s the point. Life will always scatter things across our path. Messes happen. Wind blows. Circumstances shift.
What we can control is how we approach them.
We can grumble… or we can turn it into a game.
We can complain… or we can create connection.
We can see chores… or we can see opportunities.
As women in this beautiful second half of life, we know something our younger selves didn’t: the magic isn’t in the grand gestures. It’s in the small, repeatable moments.
The backyard treasure hunt wasn’t about trash. It was about time. It was about teaching resilience, care, and joy. It was about showing my granddaughters that even the simplest tasks can be infused with love.
And maybe that’s the real treasure.
So the next time something feels like a chore, I invite you to pause and ask, how could I turn this into something lighter? Something connective? Something fun?
You never know what lesson might be hiding in plain sight. Sometimes, the most powerful memories are born from the most ordinary tasks like from trash to treasure. What everyday task could you reimagine this week? How can you add creativity, laughter, or purpose to something routine?
xo, Sheryl
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