The Indian Burial Ground

A while back a gentleman stopped at our house and told us he had grown up here! His name is Eugene and his sister, Eleanor, had lived in the house until about a year before we bought it (it was empty until we purchased it). He said he and his father had built the house themselves. They hired a stonemason to lay the exterior stonework and the fireplace. They did all the carpentry and the finish work themselves. He told us that during the Great Depression his father was out of work, so they moved to Springfield, Missouri for a few years and the house stood vacant.

The little barn we have off to the side used to be a chicken coup:

 See that little blue bed frame behind the turned wood piece? I told the Mister we were going to have to salvage it if we ever had a kid. It's so precious!

Even the chicken coup was solidly built! These boys loved their concrete (hey Kim, read your comment to this post, it totally applies this week, no?) and stone.

During the course of the five hours (!) Gene was at our house, he told the Mister there was an Indian buried on our property and waved in the general direction of the hill below the chicken coupe. Well, of course, Mr. took it with a grain of salt and a smile, but when the old man left, he went looking.

Sure enough, he found an old Indian buried on our hill! 

Ha! You totally thought he found a dead body, didn't you?! hehehehe

Once he knew it was there he couldn't just let it be, he had to excavate it.

He finally finished digging it up on Saturday and managed to stand it upright.

The shifter knob was a die and it's still intact. Super cool.

I believe this is the fly wheel housing. Mister has a friend who runs an antique motorcycle shop and says, based on Mr's description, he thinks it's a 1928, 29, or 30. How crazy is that?

For those of you that live in old homes, have you ever found anything ridiculously awesome? Maybe in the basement, the attic, or even outside?