No Well, No Barn, No Foundation of Any Sort: Newsletter #5

Greetings Canterbury history enthusiasts.

Even a high spirited history enthusiast such as this writer could pass by this landmark site dozens of times on walks beside a tumbling brook and not notice it. Then one day on an adventure with a young family the boys throwing rocks into the water drew my attention as we strolled downstream. There were many broken bricks scattered there in the brook, about one every 5 feet. I paid attention. Had a farmer tossed them there? Why not in a pile? Did a wagon full topple over dumping them into the brook? Take a guess, and keep reading!

A few hundred feet later, only an occasional brick was to be noticed. Meanwhile, the mother had been limping slightly and now complained of the pain, and turned us back upstream. I turned my full attention to the brook.

Humm. More bricks, larger fragments; some appearing whole. Then suddenly, none. Was there a difference about the appearance of the brook?

Looking downstream, that difference was easy to describe. In the center of the brook was an almost straight line of rocks running cross-wise. Almost like a wall. Humm. And yes, a few more rocks defined a mound of earth with a handful of smaller rocks sticking out. And occupied by 3 or 4 young trees. And there did seem to be many almost whole bricks in the area. The mind wandered, remembering. Wasn’t there something in the Lyford Canterbury History about a brick kiln on this brook? Maybe on page 430?

The family moved on. I joined them, for now!

The next day this curious person made a careful examination of the site, including seeking a source of clay, the first ingredient for making bricks. And yes, just 20 feet upstream, on the eroded west back, a grey clay deposit. But no charcoal or wood ashes. Probably washed away by several springtime floods. So next, let’s look carefully at the bricks scattered about, especially the more complete ones. Humm, here’s one sorta tucked away in some rocks at the mound. I picked it up and turned it over.

It seems almost like a miracle. After all the confusion of bricks in the brook, how could this one have survived? Number 53, carved into the wet brick with (a jack knife?) before it was fired in the long-gone kiln.

Last month this news was advertised as expected to be mid-summer brief. But let’s have some fun. Not a contest, but an opportunity for some creativity. Simply put, what was the purpose or meaning of the number? Please submit your answers using the email address below. And if you are a professional and know the answer, please identify your area of expertise. 

Next month a few words about a cellar hole that was recycled.

Submit your #53 speculations to: cellarholesurveys@gmail.com