Winter's Bounty

After all the national meanderings of the fall, your Dirt Girl decided to stay put throughout the holiday season and build herself a fluffy, little nest of vintage pull tabs. But in the process, she got lost in the woods, covered with mud, impaled on thorny branches, froze her fingers and toes and found a veritable boatload of interesting items. She did not encounter one mosquito and had a very merry Christmas.

Dirt Girl will now stop referring to herself in the third person.

Winter is prime time for MDers here in middle Tennessee. It’s cold, but the ground rarely freezes. The snakes are snoozing and the bugs are, I don’t know… larval or something. The only downside is the sunlight, which in Nashville gets shut off at about 4:15 p.m. Due to my dayjob-for-which-I-am-thankful, that leaves only weekends for serious digging but I had the entire week between Christmas and New Year’s off and made good use of it. Here are the highlights. I’ll never remember it all.

First, an update: Some time in November, in the back of a house on Fatherland Street, I dug a really old button, but didn’t know what it was. It reads “WG” plus some words on the back that are pretty hard to read.

The vaseline makes it look much prettier than it is.

 Showed it to The Aptly Named Doug, and he got out his button book.

Here he is looking it up in his amazing basement lair of antiquity.

Turns out it’s a Civil War button from a Philadelphia company called the Washington Grays. The script on the back says “Horstmann/Phila & New York”.

Nice.

There’s nothing quite as silent as our house on Christmas morning, now that our kids are all grown to functional, friendly adults with their own lives. It’s sad, a little, but not too bad. Al and I had a lovely gift exchange. I got a GARRETT PINPOINTER!!!

I made a frittata, then got that too-cheery tone to my voice and said I’d be going out for a little bit. Headed over to a friend’s house that backs up to some woods that kind of feed into Shelby Park.

Spent several hours in very thick woods/brush on a steep hill. Some trash, but not too bad and I’m really learning to trust the Fisher F75 and not dig the junky sounds.

Had this little overly dramatic moment.

(See, 'cause maybe it wasn't a soldier. Could have been anyone. But I'm thinking soldier. Playin' a sad song.)

Just a few minutes later, I got a solid signal that read 95 over and over, every time I swung – no trashy sounds, no erratic numbers. Thought for sure I’d hit my first CW-era buckle but dug this instead.

Tick tock? Really?

Doug sez it’s part of a grandfather clock.  I’m not convinced. Whatever it is, I like its grace.

Here’s the day’s take. 

From top left: harmonica reed, some kind of clasp,
a lead sinker, two pennies, round thingie,
other thing (Doug thinks also part of clock
face), part of clock face.

I was surprised to not find any definitive CW stuff. I’m also really glad no one was there to see me get completely immobilized by a large thorn bush. I’m not even sure my feet were on the ground at one point. I had my IPhone, but there’s no app for that. 

By the middle of the holiday break, I’d pretty much exhausted my meager stash of permissions and was grumping around the house on a bright and pretty morning wondering WHERE I was going to dig when I remembered that my friend Woody lives in an old house in Franklin and he’s super nice and ALWAYS on facebook. So, zip-zap… msged him and had permission to dig within minutes. It was Meant To Be!

Oh it was fun. Just … so fun. Woody lives in an adorable 1930s-era bungalow pretty much in the thick of where the Battle of Franklin took place. He showed me around and told me to have at it. I started in the very back of the back yard, up against a fence and immediately dug a pristine, dropped (as opposed to fired) 69 bullet.

Then came the nicest General Service button I’ve ever found. Can’t believe how much gold is left on it.

 

As I moved into the center of the yard, the digging got harder; it was full of bottle caps and what I think were the soft, silvery metal tops of milk bottles. After a while, I got familiar enough with those signals to just stop digging them.

Here’s  what I pulled out over two days (Believe me: I went back the following weekend).

From top left: part of a razor, possible tip of
scabbard cover, tent thing, two fleur-de-lis
mystery items (any ideas?), round piece of rusted
junk that has no business being in this photo,
hinge, uniform button, silver pinkie ring
with green stone, 69 bullet, piece of watch.

Thanks, Woody!

Biggest coup of the winter thus far has been permission to explore a very special yard on Brush Hill Road, near my home. There’s a reason for my excitement: this property is probably very close to the lost town of Haysborough, which was a thriving little village in the late 1700s into the mid-1800s (?). It had a meeting house, a school, a store, etc. and was considered a rival to Nashville (then called Nashboro). But the town died away and – seriously – no one knows exactly where it stood. Doug has been obsessed with it for years – and others too; I’m definitely late to the party. And who am I to poking about in this past, anyway? I’ve only lived here five years, and I’m a Yankee to boot (sort of; this is arguable, at some other time).

But getting permission to hunt this 2.5 acre lot high above the Cumberland was a thrill. I packed my high hopes and set out one weekend afternoon. As I always do, I brought along my extra machines and spades and it was a good thing as there were some adorable, intelligent and very well-mannered children there who wanted to play. I got them started and together we immediately found a musket ball and some old pennies. (What a great way this is to teach history to children.)

Then, off by myself, on a little path that ran along the bluff, I dug something that looked like the shiny, flat part of a pulltab – or maybe a piece of play money. I tucked it in the pouch and didn’t think much of it. Later, in another part of the field, I dug something entirely unexpected. That was pretty much it, except for the usual junk. Here’s the day’s haul:

That's right; a Swiss music box (probably
1950s) and a Spanish real (probably late 1700s!)

 My first Spanish Real!

Reales were a fascinating form of currency that were minted and traded all over the world for many centuries. Here's a good article:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_real

Is the coin a sign of Old Haysborough? Who knows. I’ll explore this property again. I suspect it’s been graded with a bulldozer at some point but I’m not giving up yet.

One random find: on a frigid weekday afternoon after a very full day of writing for my job, I HAD to get outside and ambled down the street my neighbor’s house where I dug the dog tag for “Babe” last year. Pulled this out within a few minutes and went home, frozen but happy.

I am a watch fob.

I am the other side of a watch fob, inconveniently oriented.

And then there was the day 18^th-century China, a Civil War soldier and a 1960s cowboy all collided on a gentle, wooded hillside in Nashville. I won’t tell you where. But within 20 feet of each other I found these.

Curious about the coin, I posted on CoinTalk – an excellent resource.

Here’s what I learned.

http://www.cointalk.com/t220160/

I love those guys!

The long thing? I posted it on FB and someone who collects toys recognized it as half of a barrel from a 1964 Hubley cap gun.

The bullet is sliced perfectly in half. Why? I have no idea. Doug says they did that sometimes. Just because they could.

Again, the scrambling of history. I don’t know why it’s so moving to me. They’re things. Things don’t care. (I tell myself this, but I’m not ever totally sure about it. Maybe “care” is the wrong word. I do think that things can hold energy – heck, things ARE energy.) But more than that, I guess, it’s the awareness of the people, and their hands, the hands that held these things, then dropped them. Or buried them. And I love how I can dig them out of the ground with my hands. I love how these sweet items arrive in my life, like random people walking into a café, unaware of how beautiful they are and how one informs the other, just by proximity.

Oceans and Enthusiasm

Metal detectorists, me included, have been taking full advantage of global warming this fall/winter. Late November and early December of 2012 have been glorious and I’m doing my part to remove all metal – Civil War relics, condom containers, dog tags, pull tabs, deadly triangles of aluminum siding (my current most-hated junk find), TUPOM (twisted, unidentifiable, pieces of metal), toy cars and old license plates – from the ground before the seas rush in and cover the landscape and they’re lost for good.

You’re welcome.

Al, Jakson and I headed up to Ann Arbor for Thanksgiving. We weren’t sure how the J-Man would fare on a road trip w/o his sister, but he did fine. He sat up in the back seat of the van all the way there.

Turn left here... no, I mean right.

Here’s Chloe, (left at home with Pru) reveling in the peace and quiet. I always wanted a dog that slept on her back and she delivers.

I know.

 We all settled in at Helen’s house – me, Al and Jak + my dad, Kate (step-peer) and my little bro, Ilya, the insta-teen. The house is big and warm and comfy and many lovely, turkey-scented times were experienced.

Of course, throughout the visit, I found the need to shout, casually, “Um, I’m heading out for a bit!” – a little too cheerfully. They all know what I’m doing.

I’ve dug Helen’s yard clean, so I returned to Burns Park around noon on Thanksgiving morning, after having put the cranberry apple crisp in the oven and having made sure everything else was humming along (read: women in kitchen, men watching football and not helping in kitchen).

I had high hopes for Burns Park, now that I was returning with my new Fisher F75. This wide, verdant and well-tended playground was once the trolley turnaround (think: people dropping change) and also the site of many a town fair (think: people dropping more change, and also valuable jewels). I’d met some other detectorists here back in August and they’d found tons of delicious items. Surely they hadn’t gotten it all. I smiled at the families running around building an appetite and got busy.

Dug a penny or two, then bingo: best find of the day. I swear – it happens like that so often.

Sigh of pleasure goes here.

LOVE this ring! Sadly, it only fits on my pinkie. But I pretty much wear it all the time. Definitely silver, but the center part has a distinct yellow tint that I can’t polish away. Yum. Thanks, Burns Park.

Two hours and 38 pulltabs later, I returned to the bosom of my family and had a wonderful meal. As always, no one was adequately excited about my find. No one is ever as excited as they need to be. Only Cheryl. She understands. But she was home in Tennessee. There was a flurry of furious texting that somewhat satisfied.

Friday, Al and I performed at METAL – an amazing Ann Arbor gallery that features repurposed industrial metal stuff, antiques, etc.  What better venue for me? I’d brought up all my finds and displayed them on a huge table and during intermission people came and investigated. Again, no one was as excited as they should have been about the finds, but they were polite.

We videoed the whole show. Here’s a song for ya.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHd7dONmZl0

Jakson came to the show too and was a very good boy, only barking during our most tender and romantic ballad.

All in all, a great holiday! 

The following Friday, back in Nash, was the monthly meeting of the Middle Tennessee Metal Detecting Club. 

(With Al off touring Europe for three weeks, and our relationship reduced to this...

Honey, you're pixilated again. Honey? Oh crap.

I have to do something fun! Don't judge me.)

Thought I’d include some pics of the nice folks there. Best part of every meeting is looking at everyone’s STUFF. So much fun. Here’s a sampling.

What is it about this lock that I so love?

I entered my Burns Park ring in the Find of the Month contest but, as usual, didn't even place. What's the matter with these people? The evening’s festivities featured a talk by Butch Holcombe, publisher of American Digger Magazine. He’s a good and funny speaker and something of a celebrity. He regaled us with MD stories.

Butch and his lovely wife, Anita!

The next day, Cheryl and I met up at the Civil War Expo in Franklin.  I wrote about this last year – it’s where I got the OHIO authenticated. I was actually there in an official capacity this time, as a buyer for METAL – the Ann Arbor gallery! I had a great time spending someone else’s money, buying up heavy objects that might resell well. Here’s what I found:

These tongs were found on an old farm in S. Carolina.
They were used to pick up Civil War cannonballs.
The man who owned them was named Bubba.
Wouldn't this look amazing in your loft?

Buckles were from a giant Tupperware bin full of Central
American metal stuff from the 1500s to the 1900s. Art
project anyone?  Scissors were too cool to leave behind.
Wouldn't these look fabulous in your loft?

Horse banks. (Necessary for loft?)

Last weekend, I headed over to the home of my good friends Holly and Steve to decimate their back yard. Holly was my assistant and very interested in every aspect of the process. In fact, I will go so far as to say that she is adequately enthusiastic about metal detecting, and adorable too. After an hour or so of pulling out a whole bunch of clad (modern coins), we found this!

Back says "EASTERN DISTR. N.Y."

We immediately hit the puter to try and figure it out. Holly’s house is right in the middle of some serious long-ago CW action, so that was our first thought, but no, turns out it’s a WWII pin. Still very cool! 


The next day, I drove back over there to check out Sevier Park, where they're doing some construction -- big, alluring piles of dark, promising dirt -- but it was all roped off.  WHAT TO DO???

Undeterred, I drove around until I came upon an enticing overgrown lot about a block away and was standing around, wringing my hands, weeping quietly, wondering how to contact the property owner when Holly and Steve walked up with their dogs. Turns out they know the property owner and will contact him for me. Thanks, guys!

Then, the owners of the house NEXT to the enticing, overgrown lot drove up and said SURE!!!!!  WE HAVE A HUGE BACKYARD AND YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO IT!

Readers: the above text? In all-caps? That part just there? That’s what I want you to say to me. These are the words I live for.

The mom, Irma, and her two adorable boys joined in the fun (I always have an extra machine for just such an eventuality). 

Nice fam with a freshly dug William's Cleaner
bullet.  Couple of new converts, I'd say.

Pretty quick, I dug a Willliam’s Cleaner – a common CW bullet – so it’s definitely a good yard and I have PERMISSION to return whenever I want. That’s better than rice pudding eaten while wearing a vintage dress on a spring day.

Finally, let me say that it has come to my attention that a lot of people are reading Dirt Girl Unleashed in a lurky sort of way.  Lurk not, but render ye thy comments!

OK, Christmas is coming so I’m talking like a carol, but really folks; sign up for the blog and leave a comment or two! Engage in dialogue! Criticize me! I can take it.

Better yet, invite me over. Before the oceans rise.

Wherein Dirt Girl Tries Life as a Real, Touring Musician

When I’m not metal detecting, I’m writing songs. Or maybe it’s the other way around; I no longer know for sure.  That said, this Dirt Girl post is going to incorporate a bit of both. You will read it and you will like it.

On a glorious weekend in late October, I woke up anxious to dig – knowing that it was my last chance before a two-week stint of performing in Michigan and Texas. Cheryl and The Aptly Named Doug had gotten up at the butt crack of dawn to go hunt some place fun and historic but I begged off in favor of normal slumber. I got on the road around 11 and arrived at my destination – a farm Cheryl and I had permission to hunt – about an hour later.

OK, stop. I can see you all now, in my mind’s eye, taking your map of Nashville and drawing a circle around the city, 60 miles from the center. That won’t work. I will reveal that there was a CW battle here, but other details – such as the fact that the site is adjacent to both a wig factory and an emu farm – may be erroneous.

I knocked on the door of the farmhouse, but no one was home so I left a note and drove around back of the barn and parked. Acres of green lay before me, the winter grass short enough for easy metal detecting.

I was nervous at first – I felt like a target, completely out in the open – but after a while I got in the zone and relaxed into the beauty and the free-flowing serotonin.

Here was my first real find of the day.

And, as it happened, it was my only real find. For not only is this site adjacent to a nail polish boutique and a peach pie store, but it has been well picked over by detectorists for many years.

I did notice that for the three hours I was there, a group of hawks circled lazily over my head. It occurred to me that from above I might resemble a small, dying elephant, swinging its emaciated trunk back and forth.  Sorry hawks. Move along. Nothing to see.

On Thursday, November 1, I flew to Detroit. MJ Bishop met me at DTW and we drove up to Harbor Springs for Lamb’s Retreat – a renowned songwriter retreat where I was asked to give a presentation and perform alongside some rather illustrious singer/songwriters. 

MJ gives good license plate.

It was all good fun and I wrote a couple of songs over the weekend. Oddly, the one that took 20 minutes to write is the one I think I’ll get the most use out of. It is about Dolly Parton’s… well, it’s about Dolly Parton.

Best moment of all, though, was taking a solitary trek down to my beautiful Lake Michigan and lying in the cold, wet sand in my coat and boots.

Pure Michigan.

I lay there for a long time, listening to the lapping of the waves and wishing mightily for a metal detector. As if on cue, a man walked by and told me that just a year before, a sword from the War of 1812 had washed up on the shore right where I was sitting. This is true and not just the fevered dream of a songwriter minus detector lying in sand.

After a quick husband-kissing day back in Nashville, I departed for Texas where I joined up with Kerrville New Folk tour (see the Dirt Girl Does Texas post if you’re coming into this cold.) Landed in Austin where I found that Dollar had a cheapo special on massive, white Town and Country minivans. Obtained one and drove out to Hunt, Texas. Met up with some of the other New Folk winners – Alicia McGovern, Korby Lenker and The Sea The Sea (Chuck Costa and Mira Stanley) – at a Disney-esque Mexican restaurant. (Many thanks to Thomas Chapmond and Jeff Gavin of Cabin 10 for the check-grabbing!) Then out to the Roddy Tree Ranch where we were staying and performing.

Wow. Swanky comfort! We had a huge and well-appointed but TV-less house to relax in but not for long. I had time for a quick stretch before we grabbed our guitars and headed down to the open-air stage to play. Nicolette Good joined us from San Antonio. (Fellow NFer Edie Carey stayed home in Boston with her handsome baby boy.)

It was a beautiful, gentle evening that got starrier and starrier as we played. It was the first of many times that week that I just felt so honored to be onstage with these people. Really great musicians and amazing, layered, cool songs. Like … I dunno… Mallomars. Cayenne-infused Mallomars spiked with whiskey.

Roddy Tree Ranch stage. Also, my nose.

After the show we went back to our luxury pad and attempted to learn the results of the presidential election via our phones, ESP, star-gazing, shouting to distant mountain ranges, guessing, etc. When we learned the result, there was… an audible expression of emotion. (If you are unsure of my political leaning, considering that I spend a lot of time digging Civil War relics, consider, too, that I am a folk singer.)

The next morning, Alicia and I drove back to Austin after stopping for lunch and antiques in Johnson "City".  After resting up in the domestic comfort of the Chapmonds’ lovely home, and throwing the ball for a sweet, galumphing  Labradoodle, we headed to JAX – a great restaurant/bar near UT Austin. Again, we were wined and dined, this time courtesy a folk music-loving pathologist named Phil Collins – a series of descriptors I couldn’t make up if I tried. (Thanks for the veggie burger, Phil!) Alicia, Korby, Chuck and Mira and I played for hours. It was all made more delightful by the presence of Dana Falconberry – one my long-ago dance students from the Milligan School of Ballet, now all grown up to be a proper Austin-based singer/songwriter/movie star! There was hugging and happiness.

JAX show: Korby, Alicia, me, Mira, Chuck

Thursday morning, I returned the van (waah), went for a power walk (yeah), and went for smoothies (not a fan of smoothies, but they were OK).

The New Folk Tour moved on to the Open Ears Concert Series in an uber-liberal Presbyterian Church. After an impressive chili cook-off, we set to warbling. Wow, was it fun to sing in there. Everything sounded reverby and churchified, especially when Nicolette played Marathon and Korby played Cedars of Lebanon. The Chicken Song doesn’t go over well with intense, sacred reverb, I learned.

Le Korb and I spent the night at the comfy home of David and Peggy and their Weimariners. I slept like a log and dreamed that when I woke up, Korby would be riding an old fashioned bicycle up and down the cul de sac.

It didn't end particularly well.

 Friday night’s show was another keeper: the Rice Festival in Fischer, Texas. This old, happily un-renovated, deep country, honey-look-you-can-see-right-thru-the-walls venue has been described as “performing inside of a guitar.” It’s like a mini Kerrville, complete with Dalis Allen and a field of campers across the way. Again, a transcendent time playing music on a sunny late afternoon in the Texas hill country, where the light has its way with you. 

Soundcheck...

We stayed til they closed it down. Here’s us singing Cedars of Lebanon. (It'll open in youtube, maybe.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDNEJTvp0Mw

It was 1 a.m. We drove down a series of roads and through gates, and across creeks to Stan and Chris’ ranch where the stars rained tiny little cowboy ballads upon our undeserving heads. It was sooo comfy and I crashed around 3 a.m. In the AM, I talked metal detecting with our hosts and got to see some of the stuff they’ve found around the place – just lying there on the ground. In addition to some awesome fossils, they found this.

Oh, man. Want.

As we packed up to go, I found myself sprinting down the path desperate to find SOMETHING.  I didn’t, but I left with an invite to return sometime. And I WILL.

Here’s the 2012 New Folkers sniffling their good-byes.

Love. 

Korby and I drove to Houston for a concert at the famed Rouse House. Another fabulous show, made more so by the presence of my cousin John and his dear gf, Jimmie. The Rouses really know how to put on a show: from the key-festooned guest bathroom, to the thousands of snow-globes, to the pugs (Pancho and Lefty) who tried to annihilate each other during one of my Most Serious Songs, to the amazing curried pumpkin someone brought to the potluck, to the brand-new swimming pool that I foolishly did NOT jump into fully clothed, to the two sets of songs played for smart people listening intently… it was the stuff of legend.

After a visit with J and J and meeting their lovely friends (and a rare command performance of Elton John/Whit Hill songs) I flew home on Monday, Nov. 12.

Which brings us back to MDing which, of course, is what you really wanted to know about.

This Friday after work, I plunged into a new Brush Hill yard I’d just gotten permission to hunt. Found this before stupid darkness – curse you Daylight Savings Time – sent me home:

Cool find. Did some research and I think I’ve tracked Michael Kavanaugh down (on Face Book no less), so don’t bother. More to come on that.

Spent four hours on Saturday in the same yard. Here’s the best find of the day, in situ.

St. Christopher medal with John XXIII. 

 And here's the whole day's take, from lower left: a modern bullet, a weird thing that says TEP CO, pennies from 1925 and 1942, a Naval-looking button (not sure about it; will find out), another weird thing, an old gas cap (I think), a 1963 rabies tag, a round thing (toy steering wheel?), bullet (?), bunch of clad (modern coins).

You  know you want a better look at the military button.
Not sure if it's old or not...  sure looks like gold gilt to me.

Nice yard! Thanks, enthusiastic home owner!

Heading back up to Michigan tomorrow for Thanksgiving with the fambly. (After last summer's automotive shenanigans, you can bet the St. Christopher medal will be tucked safely in the glove box.) Friday night, Al and I will be performing at METAL – a cool, new Ann Arbor gallery and metal furniture/art emporium. I’ll be bringing all my finds for a serious show and tell.

And I will have my Fisher F75 Limited Edition metal detector in the back of the van– as well as my Tesoro Cibola. Wanna play?