I am an enigma. The more I interact with experienced diggers and historians, I've begun to realize that strangers have a tendency to underestimate me. I'm underestimate-able. You aren't likely to find underestimate-able in the dictionary--however--I do like the ring of it. (Underestimate-able, adjective: a person, place, or thing that is thought to be smaller or less than it actually is.) For all intensive purposes, consider me underestimate-able. A few years ago, I embraced that perception. When I was picking for profit at yard sales and estate sales, I took full advantage of my clueless...

Summer is gone, but she went out kicking and screaming. These past few weeks were downright brutal. The earth was baked solid--concealing the good signals and testing my patience for digging plugs. Also, I might be taking this one a bit too personal... but I'm pretty sure the sun tried to kill me last week. I've never sweated so much in my life. There was sweat beading on my nose and dripping into my eyes. By the end of the dig, my makeup had nearly melted off my face and all the flammable junk in my hair had almost ignited. In the end, all I had to show for my suffering was a few bobbles,...

I may have jumped the gun a little on Spring. The forecast is calling for another coating of snow on Friday--and I use the term 'coating' in the hopes that the suggestion will manifest and we'll only see a coating of the white stuff. Fortunately, Saturday is expected to bring temperatures in the sixties... so maybe I'll still be able to hit my permissions by Sunday. My chosen topic for this post is Respecting the Fellow Digger--something that has really been weighing on me recently. As you know, I write a lot about respecting and appreciating the property owners who grant us permission, but I've...