Garden archaeology 2012

If it hasn't already dawned on you, the author of this blog is not the most balanced person in the world - whether the degree of 'un-balance' is above average, I will leave my readers to judge. I belong to a movement known as Recovery International, and a concept they promote concerns seeking to be average, instead of wanting to be exceptional. (Link to several Recovery comments on the page about Exceptionality)

The images in this posting are a good example of the extremes to which my 'exceptionality' can go. The story goes like this.

In the course of digging my garden, over the years, I remove any trace of man-made activity, and seek to have totally 'natural soil' - probably an unrealistic aim to begin with.

To the right you can see the remains of a sack which recently contained some of the soil I was sifting through. Originally the sack had been used for postal deliveries, but was defunct since at least 1974, and the material was deteriorating by degrees. Putting soil in it a few months ago finished it off. 

I had some difficulty throwing away the remains, but pacified myself by taking this photo. All I have left now is the memories and imaginings of what might have been carried in this sack, what good news or bad news, what surprise packages .... Yes that is a bit interesting, but surely a bit 'exceptional' to be so concerned about it. That is why I am congratulating myself of the little victory of actually throwing it out - yes right into the dustbin, which I think has now been collected, so the item is now irretrievably gone!

***

As I dig and sift the soil, and pick out minute scraps of plastic, paper, wood, etc., my imagination is on fire, and I am thinking of myself as a kind of an 'archaeologist', finding minute traces of events and people who have passed through this area of soil before me. The fact that much, almost all of what is here must have originated from our forty two year occupation of this site, in no way reduces the value to me of what I find. That there is little chance of me 'finding' real treasure, or anything really unusual is further compounded by the known fact that this estate of houses was built on farmland, and there are no records that I know of that there were habitations here before the farm.

So day after day, year after year, I collect the fragments, and have been storing them in my garden shed with the idea of doing something with them - but I never get round to doing so.

One day recently, I selected a few items that had turned up that day - actually from the area under the decking which had been exposed in the course of putting in the external insulation. 

I laid the items carefully on a piece of white paper on top of the plant drip tray in which I had collected them. When I look at them, from my sensible Adult perspective, they are a pretty pathetic list -

• some pieces of rotten timber,
• some broken glass, 
• a nail, 
• a scrap of the mesh used in the insulation, 
• scraps of white plastic, also from the mesh, 
• scraps of blue plastic, 
• a bedraggled feather, 
• a scrap of bone,

 - pure unadulterated rubbish. Yet my Child part wanted the pieces kept so as to tell the story of what happened - people won't remember, won't believe, if there isn't 'evidence' - or so thinks this Child part.

Today, I managed to talk a bit of sense to myself - I convinced myself that it was unlikely that I would maintain my interest to display and photograph all those items in their various containers. So the compromise is like with the indoor 'stuff' which is put in the green 'C-box' - I have emptied the containers into a strong plastic bag, and they can stay in my shed until, someone (maybe even I myself!) thinks its time they got thrown out into the dustbin. I feel quite proud looking at the empty contains which are now free to be used for plants once more.

Except for this black bucket. I've actually allowed myself to throw this out immediately - that is I would have done so, but would you believe it, the dustbin is full to overflowing, and is only collected every second week. That means that the bucket is awaiting the empty bin before I can dispose of its contents.

***

These are items I couldn't quite disentangle myself from - a piece of lino from our 1970's kitchen, a crazy clock that belonged to one of my sons, labels off flowers - the lavender still lives, but I haven't even a memory of the Achillea - it must have died straight away. The tiny Eason label is for £3.75. No idea what it was paid for ....
I'll probably put the clock into my technology recycling box, with the hopes of using it for art some day.

The final items from the garden are these solar lights - very rusted, one still working.
Again they will go in the technology box. I do want to learn about solar power, but first I have to learn about electrical power.
Ah well, I'm only 75 - I could still have a few study years left.