This old house.

For better or worse, buying a house built in 1949 means it comes with a history. My entry into the tale began when my home inspector found children's chalk drawings on the side of a walled-off section of the attic. Creepy, no? My sister and I came up with some good stories. Both my mother and my realtor thought nothing of it. (Party poopers.)

I still think my version was better, especially after uncovering this after clearing some trees and shrubs out of my overgrown backyard:

Half-decayed fire pit? or Pagan altar? You decide. I have.

Since then I've continued to clear out the yard. (With help, that is, I have some really amazing friends.) And when I say clear, I mean it was previously a jungle. My neighbor says it was solid overgrowth as long as he can remember, and he's lived there for over 20 years.

I am gradually working my way toward the pile of sticks and leaves and brush in the back corner that has fascinated me since I moved in. At first, all I could see below it was a cinder block corner:

Then, carpet?

An old aluminum window frame? With screen?

And does anyone know what this is?

Some might say it's just a junk pile. But I think there's a story to be made of all of it. (Let's also just say, I have an active imagination. And, I may or may not have seen a few too many episodes of Bones in my time).

What else will I find? To be continued...