I mentioned in a previous post that almost every time we plant something new, we find little bits of this house’s story. Well, it’s happened again.
This week, Graham bought three new fruit trees for our mini-orchard (one sweet cherry, one sour cherry, and a Stayman-Winesap apple, if you’re interested). He planted them over the course of a couple of days, and turned up a new shard of pottery.
It’s sort of hard to tell if this one’s new or old, but it’s cool, either way.
I feel a little like a magpie at this point. I have quite the collection of small, shiny objects – little gifts from the universe, I think. We’ll see what we find in the next few weeks, as we work our way through the garden before the summer.
It’s ended up being a rainy day today. Here’s the view out of my back window:
Normally, there’s a mountain back there. Today, just clouds and downpours. I think we’re getting what’s left of Hurricane Laura.
I’ve spent the day procrastinating writing a short story for August. I made cacio e pepe for lunch and banana and oatmeal cookies for breakfast tomorrow. I watched Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, and I gave myself a manicure. I’ve already had two Diet Cokes.
All of this not working got me thinking, and I think it would be fun to write some short posts featuring the various odds, ends, and interesting items my husband and I find in and around our 200-year-old farmhouse. Trust me, it’s a lot. Like, right after we moved in, we found a machete hidden above an air duct in our basement. Not sure what that was about, or how long it was there before we found it.
Anyway, I’ll try to make this a weekly thing, and we’ll call it “Found Friday.”
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Back in the spring, we planted some apple trees in our back garden, to accompany some cherry trees we’d planted the year before. One of these days, I’ll make all the pies, if I can manage to keep the trees alive long enough to produce fruit.
As we were digging, we started to find fragments of pottery and bone china. The bone china seems to have grown legs and walked off, but I’ve still got a pretty sizable chunk of the pottery (which I found, again, when I was doing some cleaning over the weekend).
I wonder what this looked like, when it was whole. And I wonder how old it is. It’s interesting, living in a house that so many people have called home before us. I’m sure we’ll leave something behind, too.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 