After countless hours of research, I decided to hit the woods where a 1690s village had been. I read old newspapers and town records, checked maps and survey plans, and nailed where the 1715 parsonage was before it burned in the 1870s. I got up early and hit the woods, bush whacking my way through cat briars that were tougher than barb wire. I found my landmarks -- an ancient cemetery in the woods, curves in the road, and random piles of rocks. I scoured every depression in the land that might be a cellar hole. Four hours later, months of research paid off. Just kidding -- all I found was a bud light cap -- and a recent one at that.
And that was a surface find. Back to the books, folks.
And that was a surface find. Back to the books, folks.
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