During the renovation of my country home, many situations presented themselves. All situations, unusual. On this one quest of mine to find some Indian relofact, I did almost everything short of a TP. We lived close to one of my husband relatives that we had become good friends. All the time, she would give me history lessons and stories of the mountains and her family, including the immediate surrounding area. She took me on a walk one day, not a long one. Telling me how the lands use to be inhabited by Indians, and a lot of Indian arrow heads had been found, even a piece of pottery, she thought. I didn’t think much of it anymore until one afternoon. Cleaning up the property had become quite a chore for me, getting rid of all the old, odd pieces, racking the yard and racking and digging large rocks out so I could mow the yard easier. Of course my friendly hardware store man had gathered up all the tools I might need for the undertaking. Yard work was something I had no experience doing. This particular day, I was tackling the chore of digging the rocks out of the ground. Rather large ones at that. Bingo! I started finding broken clay pieces. Oh Goodness! I was so excited. Remembering the stories my friend had told me. Piece by piece I was finding them. Sssome large and odd shaped, but a plain and beautiful rusty color. Most of the day I worked filling the wheel barrel pretty much full. I was going to be rich and famous. Except what if they wanted to tear down the house and declare it sacred ground or something like that? Deep thought had to go into my decision who to tell. Finally I decided to share with my husband, so I called him, for he was out of town at the time. He had a few choice flavorful words to say and then instructed me to call his Dad to come over. Now, I must say that he and his Dad disagreed with almost everything on me redoing the house. Probably because I behaved most of the time like a complete idiot. I would listen to them both and then do what I pleased. He thought since I was a city girl I was incapable of handling important tasks, and what was considered a mans job. I was determined on hands on experience. Well Dad came over to see the great find. He was absolutely astonished at all the mess the yard was in, let alone my precious find. I was so excited. He bluntly told me I had finally done it. Done what? Find the great treasure of the century. His next words were well flavored also.
It seems to my disappointment and total humiliation I had succeeded in digging up the whole drainage line to the septic system, which was made out of clay pieces. Oh boy! Was I going to get in trouble. This was going to take a lot of money. Of course he had to tell his friends and neighbors and there neighbors. So I was probably the joke of the town, maybe even the county. Gosh! They said there was no telling what I would come up next., or even if the house would survive my hands on renovation. Surprisingly, my husband didn’t get to awfully mad, for he was too busy laughing, and the sneering and laughing of friends soon quieted down. You can bet a darn shovel was no tool had had any use for anymore, or least for the time being. A new septic system and field line had to be put in anyway so no real harm done except to my pride.