by Augustine Bauer

Created on: November 18, 2009   Last Updated: January 15, 2010

Before their retirement, my Grandparents owned a cottage along the banks of the Shropshire Union Canal in the United Kingdom. Their house was eccentric- maybe even an eyesore- with its turquoise walls and unusual shape. However, it has always felt more like home to me than any other place in the world. The history behind this house was amazing: it was very old and had originally been built to house the lock keeper when the canal was still used for commercial transport. There was also some talk of an old limekiln on the property, but my memory of that part of the story is a little fuzzy. The canal is also a history lesson: before the expansion of railroads, canals fueled the Industrial Revolution in Britain and caused the growth of many villages and towns along their banks. The Shropshire Union Canal, designed by famous British architect Thomas Telford, allowed transportation of goods along a great distance. Anyway, this cottage was a wonderful place to grow up, complete with an orchard of 'climbable' tress and a whole jungle of undergrowth to explore.

My Grandmother had a reasonably large vegetable plot in what was known as the Back Garden. Some of my clearest memories center around that garden: it seems that the area was once used as a rubbish dump of sorts, for you could hardly dig without discovering bits of pottery, old bottles, and mug handles. An interested child could spend hours excavating the lives of the families who had lived in the house before us, and I often think that my current interest in archaeology as a career may have stemmed from this early exposure to its juvenile form. The soil was also filled with a brownish clay perfect for clay marbles, clay pots, and other youthful creations. Unlike the red clay found in North Carolina, where I now live, this did not stain clothes and I could play with it without my mother worrying about what I might ruin.

One of the best ways to pass a warm summer afternoon was sitting on the ground smelling the freshly turned dirt and sorting through the debris Granny was revealing with every shovel of earth. Then, in the early evening, you would head inside, leaving your clay in some cool, damp corner till you were ready to shape it. Carrying your finds inside, you would dump them in the sink and rinse them clean, and, leaving a dirty residue on the sink, convey your collection of artifacts and interesting rocks to your room to join the 'Wedgwood Cottage Museum'. Eventually these discoveries would make their way

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