The paddock is still pitted with the evidence
of a nine-year-old’s attempt at archaeology.
Eleven years later,
bits of the broken crockery dug up hang about,
next to the oil tank, the bbq, inside the shed,
reminders of how we sifted through sand.
We were going to match time-team.
Discover the half-complete ruins
of an ancient civilisation’s round house.
Even now the most that’s been found
is one, dusty, bent up spoon
Dad brought in with him to the house.
For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist when I grew up, so The Overgrown Garden became a dig site for myself and my younger sister who I roped into help me with the shovel work. I’m still hugely interested in the past, something that comes across to anyone who’s had the unfortunate experience of starting up any conversation with me pertaining to medieval/early modern history. I did also want to be an architect for a while, until I realised that it would take seven years and even then I wouldn’t be designing buildings like Bath Abbey, or Notre Dame, so really what was the point?
Anywho… thank you to DVerse for the opportunity to final work this spoon into one of my posts. I’ve been trying to work out how to use it on Writing And Works since I came downstairs and discovered it on the kitchen window sill. Not that unusual really. My dad tends to pick up random bits and bobs from the fields as he works. [Farmer with an interest in history. I take after him with the history, not so much with the farming.]