This post inspired by Frank at Dutch goes the Photo
Can we go out to the mica mine?
…said my husband to his mother when he was a little boy.
My husband’s mom grew up across the road from an abandoned mica mine. That just happened to be on her parents’ property. In the mountains of rural New Hampshire in the 1920s. After my husband’s grandparents died, his aunt and uncle built a house on that land – the mica mine way in the back. Partially hidden by overgrown vegetation.
Family visits often included that little boy begging to hike up the mountain to search. For shiny slivers of mica…to slip into his pockets.
At some point two large chunks of mica made their way out of the mica mine. Down the mountain…and ended up nestled in the gardens at my in-laws’ home.
Many years later we rescued them before selling their house.
The traveling mica rocks spent the next 15 years at home in our yard. Tucked in with lilies of the valley. Also transplanted from my in-laws’ carefully tended yard.
Until we downsized a couple of years ago.
And the mica rocks were on the move again…
Now safe and sound…
In their new yard.
At the home of a very good friend.