It’s full-on fall here in Tennessee. The ticks and snakes
have retreated into their wretched, little lairs and Cheryl and I are free to
dive into deepest, darkest, seemingly virgin woods to dig up crushed Budweiser
cans, 12 inches down.
Which we do.
Since my epic skunking of the last post, we’ve returned to
our construction site (we’ll dub it Double Buckle) quite a few times and have
even gotten to know the weekend crew of Latin American construction
professionals. One hot day, they disappeared and came back with ice-cold
bottles of juice for us. In their broken English, they told us about the
ancient broken pottery they’ve unearthed in their home lands.
I, who am scared of anything large and loud, have even
become comfortable with the massive bulldozer and dump trucks that we share the
site with. When one heads our way, I just saunter out of the way. Sounds
obvious, but it’s been a bit of a breakthrough for me and I am rather proud.
Here’s me in my headphones and ball cap, covered in
construction site mud, looking and feeling pretty bad-ass if I do say so
myself.
Don't f**k with the dance major. |
No. I didn’t find a buckle, though I surely tried. I did
manage to dig some very nice buttons and a few other cool odds and ends. Here’s
a visual recap:
This button makes my heart sing a radiant song. |
I knew you wanted to see this "dragoon" button up close. Lots of gold left on it. |
From left: harmonica reed, clock or watch guts suspender clip that looks like a tiny valise. |
One day, we ventured into the woods that border the site
(you remember? the woods with the murderous branch that nearly brained me?… ).
We didn't find much in there but I took the biggest outdoor pee of my life and if
that is too graphic for you, then your sensibilities are too delicate.
This is what I found in the woods.
Last weekend, with nothing else on the docket, we headed
back to Double Buckle to see if the bulldozers might have flipped over a good
spot. It’s sad to see the natural topography of this land get all flattened out
and readied for the $500K houses. (You may insert something about
“progress” here, if you like; I can't.) We got busy and dug for a couple of hours,
dodging 'dozers. The ground was mostly orange clay by this time, but there were a
few areas of black dirt that looked interesting.
Here are a couple of things I found.
This looked promising. |
Here it is, cleaned up. Still not sure what it is. Any ideas? Jakson insisted on being part of the display. He liked the textural dissonance of metal and fur and I have to say, I do too. |
Cheryl and I found these within minutes of each other, but far apart. |
About 3, Cheryl and I were taking a break, when a massive white truck
pulled up and the man inside began talking to the workers. Now, I don’t cotton
to this type of interference. It can only be bad. So I began my fervent prayer,
PLEASE DON’T COME OVER HERE AND ASK ME IF I’M METAL DETECTING PLEASE DON’T
PLEASE DON’T PLEASE DON’T.
The truck pulled up next to me. “You gals metal detecting?”
said the man, who had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. The kind of eyes that
report metal detectorists to the authorities.
“UM, well? Not right now! I, uh, mean, we WERE, or might
have been? But as you can see, we are merely eating sandwiches!”
I’ve never flourished in these situations. (See page 38 in
my book, Not About Madonna, for
another example of this).
Well, the man said, leaning out his truck window and staring
at the Fisher F75 detectors in our hands. “Over on Cracked Stump Road, the fire
department just burned down a 100-year-old house. You can hunt the whole
property. You can’t miss it – it’s still smoldering.” The man – head of a huge
construction company handling a bunch of local sites – gave us his card and
permission to hunt all we want.
And that’s how, at the end of the day, Cheryl and I found
ourselves in a huge field next to a seriously burning house. We walked around
in amazement. Two barns burned in the far corners of the property. Two matching
chimneys stood stark against the darkening sky.
There was hissing, crackling. A flaming branch fell off a tree I was standing
under and nearly set me on fire. Of course.
Sad. |
Then Cheryl had to leave and I found myself alone at the burning
Southern house at sunset. I fought the urge to drop to my knees, scrabble in
the dirt for a parsnip and sob, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry
again!” because that would not have been cinematically accurate because Tara
did not burn, (though Twelve Oaks did) and this house, though old, was not that old as evidenced by the satellite
dish in the front yard.
I kept saying (out loud, to no one): “How did I end up here?”
There was something a little buzzards-circling-the-carcass-y about my presence on
this property, even with permission. Was I “profiting” from someone’s
misfortune by digging here? Then I remembered that whoever had just sold this
property to the developer was probably a millionaire now AND I was about to
unearth cool clues to the people who’d lived here for the past 100 years. And
that, my friend, is just a teensy bit sacred. When the bulldozers arrive, it’ll
all be lost forever.
I took a breath and got to digging. Here’s what I found.
These were together, clearly from the same harmonica. |
Maybe from a desk? So pretty. |
The next day, Cheryl and I checked out a wooded area in a brand-new
subdivision that the construction guy had told us about. Just a year or two
ago, this had been a remote site on a dirt road with a 200-year-old log cabin
on it and a real, live spring house. Now, the cabin was gone, but the spring
house remained, tucked into some woods, next to a neat and tidy cul-de-sac. We
didn’t dig anything fun but the spring house was pretty sweet.
So then we went back to the burn-out for round two but
didn’t stay long because Dirt Girl had signed up for a food writing workshop in
Nashville.
But here are a few more things we found.
Mama's coat button. |
I'm a little teapot. (This was a pin.) |
So, yeah. Fall. I’ve been thinking about the burning house
all week long. My van still smells like smoke. I can’t help but wonder about
the 100 previous falls that fell there. How there’d been a house, nothing
fancy. No columns. Just a house. Grannies. Babies. Well water. Turkey dinners.
Folks sitting out on the front porch, staring at a particular sky. A man looking
out the screen door, saying, “Whoo-boy, feel that chill, darlin’? Let’s have a
fire tonight, after I get home.”
The fact that you skipped a musical event to grace the world with this entry is now understandable. The fact that you quoted Gone With the Wind, a movie that I finally watched the other night for THE VERY FIRST TIME? Priceless.
ReplyDeleteHah! Dirt Girl does feel bad about missing last night's event, (she needs to get out in the world of humans more often). But she does feel quite relieved to have the post done. THANKS, Kathy! Looking forward to your take on GWTW. Now you need to read it.
ReplyDeleteGrate finds. HH
ReplyDeleteI would agree with young Hussey, that your efforts here were well worth. These are always more action packed than I would guess. Could be the bad ass-ness combined with writing chops.
ReplyDeleteBut don't let it go to your head.
There's an "it" up there after "worth".
ReplyDeleteDagnabit.
Wow! Cool! You really got some great stuff over there and you really look cool in that photo with the headphones and the cap. You must be really happy with what you've got. All your efforts were definitely worth it.
ReplyDeleteWildWildWestMetalDetectors.com
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ReplyDeleteMy friend Kim IDd the car part. It's a 1936 Chevrolet Master Deluxe hood ornament! Tried to post a link to the pic but the link didn't take. Just look it up! It's so pretty!
ReplyDeleteLove reading your posts. From Ann Arbor...continue to go to the "old park." I have found some 1920's pennies, but no ring like the one you found! Definite keeper! Thanks for the posts!
ReplyDelete