There is a dump behind my parents' house. Long ago, the homeowners tossed all their garbage (and quite a few pieces of silverware) behind the house, down a hill in the woods. After we moved in and Dad found the dump, we spent many, many years excavating the lives of those who lived there before.We found bottles--all sorts, of course, from Virginia Dare Extract bottles (which I kept and still have) to milk bottles from local dairies. I found a sterling silver fork once--proof that kids back then were just as inattentive while clearing off the table as kids are now. I found marbles and pieces of porcelain dolls--all of which I carried home, washed off, and kept.
One memorable New Year's Day, we invited a friend of the family to dig in the dump, and we stayed out there for hours, just digging, with spoons or tiny shovels so we wouldn't disturb the things we found. Mother-of-pearl buttons, pieces of old toys, and chunks of broken glass, like the remnants of this carnival glass vase that I found and have kept, unwashed, for years and years and years. I used to pretend that I was Indiana Jones, excavating at a particularly interesting archeology site. Long after everyone else got tired of the dump, I stayed there--and I still occasionally return, even now--convinced that the next coolest find still lay untouched under the dirt.
And one day, I found it. I had been digging in a spot that I had dug in many, many times before, just digging, discarding broken glass and tiny shards of pottery not worth keeping. If you dug down far enough, you found the strata where someone had burned the dump at one point--lumps of melted glass and scraps of things that had rusted away long, long ago. Some of the things were obvious as to their use; others remain mysteries to this day.
On this particular day, I had gone to the dump just to sit and think for a while. I wanted some time alone, some time with my thoughts, some time to contemplate the fact that I would be graduating from High School soon, and that I had better be able to live up to my proclamation that I didn't need a college degree to be a writer. I wasn't so sure I could do it, so I went out in the woods where I grew up, and listlessly dug in the dirt.
I can't remember what else I found that day. Maybe nothing; it's hard to tell sometimes, since I have quite a few unique and interesting bowls or boxes filled with the things I found over the years. But I can remember just casually scooping aside a layer of dirt, and finding this:
My heart probably stopped. I remember feeling as if the entire forest was staring at me at the moment I picked it up--a feeling I've never been able to replicate. It was akin to finding a ruby bracelet lying discarded in the middle of a garden path, or a bag full of gold coins from some long-ago train robbery.It's a pin, but I have worn it as a pendant on more than one occasion. The bird is copper, the rest silver--although I don't know if it's sterling, I'm guessing it probably is. As you can see, it's quite large. There is no maker's mark. Strangely enough, there's a shadow--in green--of the vine, you can see it in the picture, and it's a permanent mark. I'm not quite sure how it came to be there. I've never been able to find another one, but that doesn't mean another ones doesn't exist--short of it being an actual magical piece of jewelry like it would be in my stories, it had to have been made by someone. :)
For lying undisturbed in the dirt for however many years, it was in remarkably good condition. I took it home, showed off my find, and tried to imagine the person who had inadvertently thrown it away--had they searched for it? Or was it meant to be found--by me--so many years later? Were there other pieces of jewelry lying forgotten underneath the dirt? Would they ever be found? Did it matter if they weren't?
This is my piece of magic that I found in a dump behind my parents' house. My proof that sometimes the things you are looking for are right under the surface--whatever surface it may be. My remembrance that all is not what it seems. That there are layers everywhere, that hide some remarkable things.
And it's the reason why I continue to write about those woods, and that section of Ohio that will always have a place in my heart.
EDIT: I started writing this because I wanted to join this, and it ended up really long and I decided it needed photos, so I wrote it up to post here. I didn't want to mention it until I knew I was in, and I'm in, so cool! I will have a piece of jewelry to complement my dump. Haha. When I receive it, I will post pictures, of course. (I think it's a lovely idea, and I love the thought of wearable sculptures!)
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