Mystery of Broken Pottery in a Vegetable Garden

Reader Contribution by Rachel Conlin
Published on July 6, 2014
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Although I am partially in the shade, it is still hot enough that my skin is clammy and my clothing damp. I dig the hoe into the ground again, chopping at the saplings and weeds that are growing up amongst my newly sprouted pumpkin plants. This ground has not been worked in at least fifty years, perhaps longer. Although my husband has cleared it, persistent new growth emerges from the root system of long overgrown trees.

Something in the ground I have dug catches my eye. It is another piece of broken china. This one is white with a tiny, delicate floral pattern. I put down the hoe and pick up the china. The pattern is in a soft, almost romantic green colour. Immediately, I am intrigued with thoughts of Ireland.  Hands sore with calluses, hot and tired with the relentless work of roughing out a garden in overgrown bush, this new discovery is coaxing me to sit and daydream for a moment. At the edge of the garden is a small waterfall, fifteen feet from where I stand. The cascading water calls to me. With hoe laid down and broken piece of china in my sore hand, I sit on a rock by the waterfall and begin to be swept away by the intoxication of the moment.

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