This weekend was epic--my husband hates when I use that word, but I would be robbing the experience if I used any lesser word. Allow me to begin with the story of Daniel Kaufman. Mr. Kaufman was an abolitionist icon--if you will--and those who supported slavery attempted to make an example of him in order to deter others from helping slaves find freedom. If your happen to drive through the quaint town of Boiling Springs, you will see a large brick home with a historical marker. The marker reads: "Daniel Kaufman: An Underground Railroad agent from 1835 to 1847, when he was sued by a Maryland...

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...

On Saturday, I had the privilege of introducing a friend and her teenage daughter to the hobby of metal detecting. Their passion was so refreshing. Not many people get excited for digging iron, but these two special ladies were over the moon when they dug up a square nail at eight inches--with screwdrivers nonetheless. In my experience, digging eight inches with a screwdriver to recover an iron something-or-other is commitment. Allow me to back up... this escapade was prompted when Liz requested a retreat from a personal hardship. And in my experience, there is no better distraction from an emotionally-draining...

Last week, I upgraded from my charming Garrett Ace 250 to the powerful AT Pro. He arrived last Thursday--tucked snuggly in his box with all his accessories--and spent his first couple days sitting on the granite counter-top mocking me. I fought the urge to take him out for a swing, but at the same time... I knew there was no one to watch the kids this weekend and I would only be setting myself up for disappointment. If I so much as peeked at him, there was no way I could restrain myself. I considered taking both kids with me--1.5 year old and a 4 year old--but figured that might be pressing...

This weather is giving me whiplash. Its warm. Its cold. Its raining. Its snowing. The ground is thawed. The ground is frozen. When I stumbled downstairs to make my coffee this morning, the deck was covered in a thin coating of snow and temperatures had dipped into the twenties. By Thursday, the weatherman is promising seventy degrees and another soggy spring shower. Its times like these when I'm reminded of how I survived the terribly long winter... staring at old maps and driving around knocking on doors. For those of you who are still trapped indoors and suffering from this weather whiplash,...

My mother-in-law and brother-in-law recently volunteered to watch my kiddos every Sunday--giving me five precious hours during the week to devote to digging. Last week, I used those stolen moments to hit the Wright House. This week, I followed Roman into the woods and poked around an old trash pit. When we first arrived at the site, I was giddy--I realize that not many young ladies get excited over a giant depression in the middle of the woods... but I suppose I'm a different breed. With the exception of the backyard dump at my Uncle's, I hadn't been digging through any junk pits since...

Believe it our not, but I am a girly girl. I freak out at the sight of bugs, I hate dirt under my nails, and I never leave the house without slathering on my makeup and teasing my hair like it was still 1965. Admittedly, I'm not your typical metal detecting hobbyist but I'm slowly learning to navigate this hobby--with a little feminine flare I might add. As you could probably imagine, being a woman in this hobby does have its advantages... but is certainly not without its disadvantages. This morning I posed a question in Women Diggers--a female diggers group on Facebook. I asked the ladies...

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...