Finding things buried in the dirt is like touching a moment from the past that has been frozen in time. These discoveries connect us somehow with the lives of a home's previous owners. They always provoke questions.
Our house was built in 1965 on land that was once a large farm. (I complain about suburban sprawl whenever I pass the new subdivisions sprouting where corn grew just a few years ago, but we all live on what was once a wilderness and then a field.) My most interesting finds here have been the traces of an old garden, including a metal rose tag (which I cannot find anywhere to photograph for this post, so use your imagination.)
Yesterday I found two metal stubs just outside the laundry room door, exactly twenty feet apart. The first one was a mystery, but when I found the second one, I was pretty sure I knew what it was...clothesline posts! Clothes hung on a line between the posts would get direct afternoon sun for hours on end, perfect for drying clothes and now, perfect for growing Black-eyed Susans.
At our old house, built in 1954, we found a small brick patio at the back of the lot, a trowel blade, its wooden handle long since rotted, and numerous toy cars of 1970s and 80s vintage. The most curious find, though, was a 1957 wheat penny, buried in the front yard, about a foot from the curb, and nowhere near a sidewalk or path. In fact, it was a section of the yard that would hardly ever see any foot traffic unless, like me, you were planting something there.
While planting my flowers, I thought and thought about what someone could have been doing to lose a coin in that part of the yard. I was stumped. There was just no reason to be there with money. The day was hot, and I was thirsty, so I took a break from digging and went inside for a cold glass of lemonade...Lemonade...Lemonade??? A lemonade stand!
And you know, if I squinted my eyes just right and looked out the window, I could see a couple of kids, circa 1960, pouring lemonade and dropping their profits into a shoebox. The vision faded as quickly as it came, and as I drank my lemonade, I wondered about those kids, now in their fifties. Where are they, and do they still have fond memories, as I do, of that little house on Dublin Drive?
Found anything cool in your garden???
