Back Field Habitation

This field where we settled over 20 years ago never seemed physically special but there was a prescence and a memory there that I slowly became aware of. It was a used up sweet potato field, out in the center of the open prairie, near the oxbow woods as I called them. There was no important earth works, inclines or mounds as there are in other places in the prairie. The neighbors boast of buckets full of artifacts, spear points, grind stones and stone tools. I know of the three official sites in the prairie including the Olivier site, but they are a mile away from here. For many years I have walked looking at the ground and feeling the subtle undulations, but never suspecting that there had ever been anything out here besides farmland and pasture. 

I had found ceramics. Years ago we surmised they were spread to aerate the soil for farming. It seemed plausible. Maybe more plausible than there being a homestead in the exact spot that we chose almost haphazardly, because of its proximity to a lone cypress tree in the tree line. I found delicate things in the earth though, the curl of a blue and white fleur de lis, doll arms and legs, pieces of plates, bricks, thick crocks and milk glass. Still, with our position back here I could hardly imagine there had been habitation so far off of the main dirt road. There were no paths or racourcis that I knew of, crossing the prairie. Then one day in the carrot patch I found a real rock in the shape of a perfect heart. 

In the east yard we plowed some rows to plant coton jaune, native brown cotton. After it rained I would inspect the exposed ground along the rows. I found another stone, but this time it seemed to be a hand tool for grinding or hitting. There was a worn tip and slight indentions along the sides that fit my thumb and fingers perfectly. I marveled at its weight and ergonomic feeling in my hand. 

Sometimes when I walk the field, or even recently when I turned over a little dirt out there, I still find white ceramics and strange rocks, sometimes blue glass that looks knapped at the edges. The more I let the prairie grow, the more old plants appear that tell of use. The more I dig, the more is unearthed. I tell myself if there was a home place here, I know where it would have been, in my east back field according to the evidence, but it still doesn't make sense to me. Not to mention how ironic it would be to have built in the same place. On the other hand, it does makes sense to me, because there is a tangible presence back here that is pleased to be remembered.

Recently I was going through some old topography maps online of the area and something caught my eye: a few black squares denoting domicile on the 1940 topographic map, far back in the prairie. Intrigued, I doubted it was in the correct position. I used the overlay tool to match up the road and other landmarks, and discovered to my complete surprise that they were located at the end of my driveway, in the exact place where I find the ceramics in my backfield.