In case I haven’t made it clear in the past, my husband and I live in the house that I grew up in. I’m sure there’s a joke in there, feel free to take a shot. I’ll wait.

My parents did a lot of work to the place, including building a garage when I was a teenager. After it was built the ground needed to be leveled out a bit, and a neighbor hauled a load of fill in and dumped it. As we were smoothing out the dirt, we found bones. Cow bones. The dirt had come from a farm, and apparently the farmer forgot where his Bovine Graveyard was.

Also, cow ribs? Are very large.

Years later (I think it was years later. My long term memory stinks but PIPE DOWN AND LET ME FINISH!)  my parents needed more fill brought in to help level out the front yard and give it some good topsoil to grow grass. The dirt they bought was from the local cemetery. 

Now would be the time to point out that cemetery dirt does not
bother me, as it’s just dirt. FROM HALLOWED GROUND. There will never be
any weird juju going on in this house. 

Anyway, there were big piles of soil in the yard. My dad went out to get the mail one day and saw a round rock sticking out of the dirt. He thought it was odd, a round rock. He got the mail, and passed by it again.

And noticed the round rock had a jaw.

Up to that point, I would have said I had a fairly strong stomach. Until my dad came in the house and announced there was a human skull in the front yard. I think my reaction was probably similar to this:

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And there went any hopes I may have had for a CSI career. I am a quivering jelly-muffin, as it turns out.

We did what any normal family would do and named the skull Phil (see what we did there?). And a kind police officer took him away and reburied him.

I bring this up because the husband and I were just talking about buying a load of fill to help build up the ground a bit around the house’s foundation. And the very next day someone offered to bring dirt over.

From a grave they were digging in the cemetery.

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Oy vey, am I right? But I am pleased to report that for the first time in many moons…nary a bone to be found. Bovine or otherwise.

Believe me, I looked. My husband did most all of the work, and also reported Zero Bones Present.

All of this was a very strange way to tell you that we got some dirt, but hey. Whatever works.

See you later!

4 thoughts on “That Time There Was a Skull in the Yard”

  1. That's quite a story! And, no, I did not know you live in your childhood home, but how cool is that? I mean, other than the cow bones and the skull.

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