CyberSage
Moderator
I find myself as I did all last year, squeezing in a hunt here and there in between my work and duties around the house and yard. With the warmer weather comes the spring cleanup and preparations for the vegetable garden and numerous flower beds. Tax time is almost here, and that is a job unto itself. This weekend along with the chores, came time to escape to the local parks and do some coin shooting as well. The weather was brisk and cold, but my Lesche sunk easily into the ground. This simple act of plunging my digger into the dormant grass of the park is enough to send my mind voyaging, and dreaming of what finds lay in wait for me this coming year.
The parks are always quiet and relatively empty this time of year. This makes the hunts peaceful and reflective. I am forever daydreaming about the passage of time and the individuals who came to these parks to relax and take a break, just as I do now. We are a hundred years apart, but walk the same ground for the same reasons. How I wish I could get just a glimpse of the past and see the families, children, and young couples of yesteryear.
Then, as so many times before the rush of reality awakes me from my dream. I am being interrupted by a rhythmic repeating tone filling my headphones, letting me know that the past and present worlds were about to be joined together once again in a small way by a simple coin dropped so many years ago...
IndianBarber
The Indian was in great shape. My second of the year.
The locals have told me that a dance pavilion and stage once stood where the playground now sits.
The little Barber Dime was a welcome site at the bottom of the hole.
I spent more time gridding the area. You can see my digging cloth still marking the location of the Barber Dime dig. No more Silver for me today, but I was content with what the old park gave up. What a wonderful way to end the weekend.
I managed a couple of Wheats along with the Indian and Barber. They are still very fun to unearth.
I loaded up my gear in the car, and took a short walk back to where I dug the Barber coin. The bare boughs of a large old growth tree loomed over my head as I looked down at the ground. The cold empty park had once been full of life. People from the area a hundred years ago came here to escape the daily grind. Countless thousands of picnics probably happened under this tree over the years. No doubt, when the weather warms the park will once again come alive. The picnics and the celebrations will continue, and someone without realizing it will accidentally...
...drop a coin.
There I go dreaming again.
Keep Swing'in
Jack
The parks are always quiet and relatively empty this time of year. This makes the hunts peaceful and reflective. I am forever daydreaming about the passage of time and the individuals who came to these parks to relax and take a break, just as I do now. We are a hundred years apart, but walk the same ground for the same reasons. How I wish I could get just a glimpse of the past and see the families, children, and young couples of yesteryear.
Then, as so many times before the rush of reality awakes me from my dream. I am being interrupted by a rhythmic repeating tone filling my headphones, letting me know that the past and present worlds were about to be joined together once again in a small way by a simple coin dropped so many years ago...
IndianBarber
The Indian was in great shape. My second of the year.
The locals have told me that a dance pavilion and stage once stood where the playground now sits.
The little Barber Dime was a welcome site at the bottom of the hole.
I spent more time gridding the area. You can see my digging cloth still marking the location of the Barber Dime dig. No more Silver for me today, but I was content with what the old park gave up. What a wonderful way to end the weekend.
I managed a couple of Wheats along with the Indian and Barber. They are still very fun to unearth.
I loaded up my gear in the car, and took a short walk back to where I dug the Barber coin. The bare boughs of a large old growth tree loomed over my head as I looked down at the ground. The cold empty park had once been full of life. People from the area a hundred years ago came here to escape the daily grind. Countless thousands of picnics probably happened under this tree over the years. No doubt, when the weather warms the park will once again come alive. The picnics and the celebrations will continue, and someone without realizing it will accidentally...
...drop a coin.
There I go dreaming again.
Keep Swing'in
Jack
