(Jarrod on the hunt in the junkyard)
Junkyard day is our favorite day. We like to take the old highway down as it meanders through the mountains and into valleys. There is no sign marking our arrival to the treasure trove we like to frequent. You know you've arrived by the sight of a small collection of relics dotting the landscape. The average passerby might look over with a glance never knowing of the abundance of history hidden behind these hills. We turn right off the highway and head up the dirt road. We have been here countless times over the years and still I am taken back by the sight as we crest the hill and are suddenly greeted by hundreds of old cars quietly resting in the valley below.
Donned in work boot and long pants we grab our gloves and head out. The hunt is on and we are in for a half days journey through the jungle of old cars. We sift our way through overgrown grass and whatever else may be lurking in the shadows while thistle grabs at our ankles. We shimmy our way between tight spots and climb over cars when there is no clear path just to get a glimpse of something special. Beneath the layers of dirt and decay you can see the beauty waiting to be discovered. There is a glimmer of hope in knowing that we may be able to coax that once vibrant turquoise pickup back to life or that pale red land yacht just begging to shine like a ruby again. Hours are spent searching for that perfect, yet imperfect car part that we can reinvent and turn into jewelry.
(Pyper on the hunt in the junkyard)
I relish in feeling as though this junkyard is a secret that is all mine. A mysterious sanctuary where we come to honor the gods of steel. Time stands still in a place like this and you can lose yourself in it. The details, the decay, the small insignificant tokens left behind to stand the test of time. Memories, stories, history stoically waiting for salvation.
