Joseph Mackereth
We all have possessions we hold dear. Sometimes, it’s something that clearly has value to the world, like jewels, cash, investment certificates, expensive heirlooms. Sometimes they are things that don’t always look valuable to others but hold a special place in our lives. It could be an old piece of clothing, a sports trophy or a Depression glass cake plate that has graced every one of your birthdays since birthday number one.
Yep, I have my cake plate. I also have photos showing me with my first birthday cake on that cake plate, so in my world it’s a precious artifact. In anybody else’s world, it is yard sale inventory at best. That’s how it goes. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. That sort of thing.
If you have something that’s special to you, you know where it is. It’s in a safe place. My cake plate is front and center in my walnut corner china cabinet that Daddy made for me. It’s just a corner chock-full of memories. If you hold something dear, you know exactly what spot it’s stored in, even if you haven’t touched it in 20 years. My left-handers’ glove and softball have not been touched in almost 30 years, but they’re on a shelf in my closet, ready to go if anyone is up for a 10-second game of softball. I’m in, but physically 10 seconds is all I’ve got for the sport right now before the “ouchies” set in.
That shelf in my closet is filled with “valuables” that anyone else would sweep into a trash bag and not think twice about it. All my dog collars from furry friends now gone are there. My great-grandmother’s budgeting system, which is comprised of 25 very small, handmade drawstring pouches, the amount that needed to be put into them each month and the purpose ever so neatly printed on each. Hair cuts, 25 cents. Books, $1. It surprises no one that a woman in my family budgeted far more for books than personal care. Family priorities.
I have seen this behavior in my animals, too. Currently, I am babysitting a friend’s rat. Her name is Shivani but somehow I’ve been calling her Bert and she answers to it now so I can’t go back. If you give Bert a strawberry, she takes it and runs to a corner of her rat condo, hides it behind a slide, and checks on it frequently. She’ll finally eat it if she thinks no one is watching. If someone shows any interest, that strawberry gets locked in the rat vault in the corner where it’s safe.
Of course if you’re a dog in this house you’re one of five so you learn to hide your goodies early on because someone is always watching. Another dog could become fascinated by your favorite toy and try to snatch it. If you’ve found a scrumptious nugget of food on the floor, you’re going to have to become a ninja to enjoy it in this house. My dogs have carved out hiding spots for their treasures. For example, the Great Dane hides bowls in the sofa. Not her own bowl, no it’s going to be a bowl that someone forgot to put up after having ice cream or chili. Something sticky and delicious, and thankfully she licks them clean first, because otherwise my sofa would look disgusting. At the moment it’s just mildly grungy.
The dog hiding spot that trumps all others is the walnut tree, and it is used by multiple dogs. The ancient walnut tree is at the far corner of the fenced dog area and is massive. I think distance from the house is important to safe spot location. Also, it’s not physically easy for me to get behind the tree because its roots have formed their own security system by tripping me up every time I try to retrieve things from the forest Fort Knox.
What has been deemed worthy of a place in the walnut tree hidey hole? It’s an interesting mix. I have found a silicone spatula, last used for cookie dough. Uncooked ramen noodles, stolen for the spice packet which was chewed to bits, sitting next to my favorite pen. Any item that we touch daily but clean infrequently is up for grabs. Our reading glasses, the remote control, our car keys all smell strongly of us so it’s like a favorite pacifier. So reassuring. So comforting. So worthy of the walnut tree.
When spring comes to Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley and whatever snow we’ve had melts, the treasures of the walnut tree become exposed. What overwintered in the safety of the tree roots? You just never know. Last spring it was several jars of Penzeys spices that had been stolen off the counter. Why would a dog want a jar of Za’atar?
What’s your walnut tree and what is hidden there? Mine is obviously the shelf in my closet that has become more a museum of me rather than clothes storage. There reside worn dog collars, my softball and glove, my Harry Potter souvenirs, the embroidered handbag I carried on my wedding day, and my family’s traditional budget system. An eclectic mix for sure, important to no one else on the planet, and treasured by me.
The story above first appeared in our March / April 2022 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!