Slaves here? Yes. Our abstract includes this: "Item 3d: I will and bequeath to my daughter Palina, owing to her being a cripple, a Negro girl Minta about age 8 years as a special legacy to be under the management and control of her mother until the said Palina should marry or become of age; furthermore I wish my said daughter to have an equal share of my property ... in addition to the Negro girl Minta, above named." Our garden was on the site of that slave cabin.

Digging in the ashes that day, my pickax chipped a piece of pink granite off some big rock below ground level. Chub dug and soon determined that the huge stone was a half-circle, flat on top and very thick - a foundation stone for this early 19th century log home. Chub finally brought it out, a perfect half-circle 26 inches across and 10 inches thick. He shouted, "Hey, this is part of a grindstone for a grist mill!" It was obvious that someone had chiseled a circular grindstone, and years of milling wore the grinding surfaces until it was discarded and cut in half to make a corner stone for the cabin.

Questions came rapidly: Where was this stone quarried? How did it get to Boone County? Who chiseled it into shape? It must date back into early 19th century. Where was the enterprise that crushed wheat, corn and oats into flour and meal? How was it powered? Is the other half of this grinding burr here, too?

We found two more pink granite stones - the top burr. They were the same diameter, but only 7 inches thick. The grooves, notches and hub spaces were there, matching the larger stone. Together, they crushed dry grain as it came down from a hopper above. The top burr rotated against the stationary one, crushing the grain. Then the husks and the flour were separated - husks for farm animals and fine flour for the pioneer kitchen.

As I journaled in 1956, I sat in the shade of the mulberry tree from which the Robnetts, Crewses and Baumgartners made mulberry pies and jam. I felt close to those early families who cut trees from my woods and placed worn grindstones under the corners of their log home. I respect those hard-working people who wore out this soil because it was the only way they knew. My generation tried to improve it for those to come. Memories and grindstones are treasures from the past.