The other evening, my husband and I took the munchkins to the park. A few kids were already scaling the playground equipment and digging around in the mulch. For the most part, the parents hovered nearby... but there are always exceptions. One parent dropped off his hellions and wandered across the soccer fields with his hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pockets--disappearing from view. There is nothing more infuriating than parents who abandon their misbehaving children at the playground for everyone else to deal with... especially, when those misbehaving children have a massive dump in their...

These past few weeks, I haven't been able to recruit any relatives to watch my kids. (For those of you who don't know, I have a eighteen-month-old daughter and a four-year-old son.) And let's face it, unless I'm plucking diamond rings off the beach or gold nuggets from the creek, I can't afford the going rate of a babysitter. Last I checked, South Central PA doesn't have very many beaches or gold deposits. So--being the compulsive digger that I am--I opted to strap the little one to my back and buy a dog harness for the other one. (Hah! Just kidding, though the thought had crossed my mind once...

I can still remember my sixth birthday party. At the time, we were living in Sandwich, MA. My dad was the senior pastor of the baptist church. We lived in the parsonage, which was built off the main parking lot behind the church building. But this particular parking lot wasn't really a parking lot at all--not to a six year-old, anyway. This particular parking lot was a vast and tumultuous seascape with roaring waves and hideous creatures rising from the deep. Honestly, I forget the details of the party. The cake might have been strawberry? There could have been two or five friends? I assume...

I've got the winter blues. Officially. I'm staring out my window as more white stuff falls from the sky. Granted, Pennsylvania winters are mild compared to what I was used to in New England--I guess we could be getting three feet instead of a mere six inches... but I'm bitter just the same. I had grand aspirations for this week. I wanted to get out there and hit my permissions. It's supposed to be March, after all. The earth is supposed to be thawing but between the snow and freezing rain this week, I've been a complete wreck of a shut-in--with my five dogs and two kids. I guess it could be worse......

Today, I told my son a story today about the good guys and the bad guys. The bad guys chased the good guys to a house where they hid in the walls and the attic and the basement. When the bad guys came, they looked everywhere for the good guys, but they played hide-and-seek so well that the bad guys couldn't find them anywhere. So the bad guys left and the good guys went to hide in another house and one day lived happily ever after. I introduce you to the Wright House--this picture is from six years ago but I think you get the gist. This sad looking stack of bricks may not look like much,...

I am at the local hole-in-the-wall testing a theory on permissions. I was kind of hoping that if I struck up a conversation about metal detecting that it would blossom into this epic discussion and earn me some permissions. Not so much. I am sitting at an empty bar with my laptop writing this post. My chosen topic of the day is 'mentors in metal detecting'. I can not stress my appreciation for my mentors. Everything I've learned and written about here in my blog has been courtesy of my mentors. A lot of people are under the impression that this is an independent and antisocial hobby....

I have been tossing around this idea of developing a one-pager to leave with potential permissions. Do any of you have something that you have developed? I thought of creating a business card, but what can a business card really tell you about a person who wants permission to dig up your property? (Because--essentially--that is what we are all asking for.) I was doing some research on the metal detecting code of ethics--which I preach about on a regular basis. I happened upon this version by White's Electronics: Be a good ambassador for other detectorists by following this code of ethics for respecting...

In some cases, you will find that paying your taxes does not give you the right to metal detect in township parks, schools, or sidewalk strips. A dog can take a dump in any of these places. A kid can eat dirt in any of these places. A hipster can play his guitar and a homeless man can nap in any of these places. Do they pay taxes? Probably not. But they have these rights because you pay your taxes. There is a township near me called South Middleton Township. This township has all the ingredients for a perfect detecting experience. I've touched on it before, but in case you forgot--underground...

I love old homes. I love everything about them. I love the stone-work, the wood-work, the brick-work, the shutters, the doors, the door-knobs, the windows, the window-panes, the fancy molding, the spindles on the porches. What more can I say? I absolutely love old homes. Not to mention, I have this horrible habit of purchasing architectural elements from old homes. It must be some sort of compulsion, because I just can't help myself. In my garage at this very moment, I have four old doors, three old chandeliers, a handful of glass doorknobs, some swirly-pane windows... As a matter of fact,...

A lot of my permissions are discovered just by driving around. I will pick my son up from daycare and we will set off on our epic adventures. I call them adventures, but really we just drive around on unfamiliar roads looking for places that could produce historical relics. It might sounds silly, but we have a lot of fun. This is actually how I got permission for the 1765 mill property. (Pictured to the Right.) My other permissions are found on the internet. If I have a township that I am focusing on, I will Google "TOWN" history. I read up on what Wikipedia has to say, then I will typically...