The Bone Yard

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In the far back right corner of our property sits a grouping of trees and cactus and rocks. And a bone yard.

We bought this house and property from a lovely elderly couple. The bone yard is their work. I am no anthropologist but I’m saying its Dinosaur.

If I was my 8 year old self it would be. Guaranteed. Dinosaur.

Bones scattered as far as my 8 year old child’s eye and mind can imagine! Bones everywhere! Bones hiding under trees so there’s actually some shade and relief from the awful heat! Can it get any better?

My adult self is jealous.

Growing up I was told to go outside to play. Now people I want you to really think about that. If you have read my post “Desert Cred” you know part of my childhood was spent in Baker CA.” Gateway to Death Valley”. I’m living in the hottest, middle of nowhere desert and I’m told to “go outside and play.” That’s when I learned to catch lizards.

Thanks Mom.

Actually the 8 year old me had moved to a much larger desert town by comparison… Hesperia CA (This is 1976 and that was a joke)

Now, I had hoped, if I’m lucky, there is another child possibly my age living somewhere only miles away. But no, sadly my hour morning bus ride to school proved all ten or 12 of us desert children were separated by miles and miles of not much.

So I played outside alone. Don’t feel pity. I’m a desert kid. I’m desert strong. I can play outside in the heat alone. Please.

The shrubs and bushes and trees by my home in Hesperia did not have a hidden bone yard for me to uncover. Had it, I would have never come back inside the house.

I used to steal my mom’s spoons and go dig in the dirt, mostly believing I was digging a tunnel to my best friend’s house so we didn’t have to keep asking for rides to each other’s houses. 1976. No cell phones just one loud main phone ringing to announce that you want your friend to come over with her spoon to dig in the dirt with you. That means asking one of the Moms to drive you over in the station wagon, leave you there and then drive back a few hours later to pick you up. Oh and it’s 110 degrees outside.

So I would dig alone.

Eight year old me would have died and gone to heaven had I found ANYTHING let alone a whole bone! My little heart wouldn’t have been able to take a whole YARD of bones!

So yes, still after more than eight months living here I get twinges of jealousy when I glance over at the bone yard. I know I can’t just plop down there and dig with one of my spoons. It’s not the same. And I really don’t need to by secretly photographed doing that either.

The bone yard will stay as it is. No raking it up or clearing it away. This treasure is waiting for future generations to discover.

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One thought on “The Bone Yard

  1. Love this…my eight year old self would have dug for hours with you! Why don’t I remember that when my daughter want’s to do it? That should even be something that we resolve to do…be our eight year old selves…more.

    Like

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