Trash Digger
Hero Member
I had a couple of hours to get out today, so here goes.
Main Street, America. We have all been there. The shops and stores across the street from the courthouse were older than any living resident of the town. Although the names had changed many times on the storefronts, the building facades watched the town's residents pass by on the street as they had done for over a hundred years. The general store and grocery at the north end of the block was now a used clothing store. The furniture store that once carried the height of Victorian fashion is now a pleasant coffee shop. The barber shop and other general stores were now a dollar store, cell phone shop, the local newspaper, other second hand stores, and a newer furniture store.
Behind these current establishments, in the alley, was the old grocery warehouse, now boarded up and forlorn. The livery had burned down years ago, and no trace now existed of the corral where mules were once boarded. A small passageway between the once thriving carriage repository and a surviving warehouse was littered with broken bottles and trash where the town's derelict residents drowned their memories in cheap wine.
The hope of discovering old artifacts and coins was torn from the imaginative mind of the intrepid treasure hunter when he realized that around 10 feet of fill dirt and gravel had been deposited on the sloping ground behind the buildings to provide parking for the current tenants. Never admitting defeat, the DFX was removed from the trunk of the Thunderbird and was unleashed as the tenacious predator that it is.
Trash was the order of the day, but like a hound on the scent, the DFX relentlessly located one hose to faucet adapter, two State quarters, 2002-P and 3005-P, two 1989-P dimes, and 1961 and 1984-D Memorial pennies. A final, uncertain signal was being recovered when a stranger approached. As the crushed Mountain Dew can was being removed from its resting place 6 inches under the gravel the stranger made the comment that it would be very fortuitous to find anything in the area. He had noticed me as he was opening his window to fire his 22 rifle at a pesky squirrel.
Upon discovering my purpose in the alley, this 60 year old lifelong resident gave a brief oral history of the area. That history provided several hot leads and owner's names to property where country houses existed long ago.
Here are the finds of the day.
Mike
Main Street, America. We have all been there. The shops and stores across the street from the courthouse were older than any living resident of the town. Although the names had changed many times on the storefronts, the building facades watched the town's residents pass by on the street as they had done for over a hundred years. The general store and grocery at the north end of the block was now a used clothing store. The furniture store that once carried the height of Victorian fashion is now a pleasant coffee shop. The barber shop and other general stores were now a dollar store, cell phone shop, the local newspaper, other second hand stores, and a newer furniture store.
Behind these current establishments, in the alley, was the old grocery warehouse, now boarded up and forlorn. The livery had burned down years ago, and no trace now existed of the corral where mules were once boarded. A small passageway between the once thriving carriage repository and a surviving warehouse was littered with broken bottles and trash where the town's derelict residents drowned their memories in cheap wine.
The hope of discovering old artifacts and coins was torn from the imaginative mind of the intrepid treasure hunter when he realized that around 10 feet of fill dirt and gravel had been deposited on the sloping ground behind the buildings to provide parking for the current tenants. Never admitting defeat, the DFX was removed from the trunk of the Thunderbird and was unleashed as the tenacious predator that it is.
Trash was the order of the day, but like a hound on the scent, the DFX relentlessly located one hose to faucet adapter, two State quarters, 2002-P and 3005-P, two 1989-P dimes, and 1961 and 1984-D Memorial pennies. A final, uncertain signal was being recovered when a stranger approached. As the crushed Mountain Dew can was being removed from its resting place 6 inches under the gravel the stranger made the comment that it would be very fortuitous to find anything in the area. He had noticed me as he was opening his window to fire his 22 rifle at a pesky squirrel.
Upon discovering my purpose in the alley, this 60 year old lifelong resident gave a brief oral history of the area. That history provided several hot leads and owner's names to property where country houses existed long ago.
Here are the finds of the day.
Mike
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