Fragments of days gone by

I'm 11 feet tall! Raaaawwwrrr! (6 April 2012)

I've talked before about what people did a century ago with their broken dishes. It's the darnedest thing, but I find dishware fragments nearly everywhere I go—including my own yard. Last weekend was no exception. Nearly every place is an archaeological dig, so to speak.  



After pruning the azaleas, I noticed something wedged between the ancient oak roots running along the driveway.

Beside my driveway
(6 April 2012)

A little closer...
(6 April 2012)

Well, well, well. What have we here? Other than a kitty paw.

I'm changing the cat's name to Captain Obvious
(6 April 2012)

Thank you, Clark. Your vision is six times sharper than Mama's, after all. And your foot's nicely positioned there, just for scale's sake.

Wonder how old it is?
(6 April 2012)

At most, it's ¾" long and ½" wide.

Close up, you can see the crackled glaze. It's partly a function of wear, and partly a function of age.

Another close-up of dish fragment
(6 April 2012)

Wonder how many times I've run over it with the car? Perhaps it's been buried under the layers of sand and gravel, and has just recently become visible. Maybe years of rain and automobile tires slowly unearthed it.

I've found many shards of bottles, glasses, and dishes around my yard and in the house's crawl space, but I can't recall very many with patterns or colors. Nearly all have been white or cream-colored.