Written in 1955, long before geocaching existed, this poem reflects the geocaching experience.

I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.

The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.

It took dominion every where.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.

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About scribedscribbles

Like most people, I hate filling out profile pages. Who am I? Well, I’m a wife, teacher, daughter, and friend. I’m also an intellectual, an introvert, a night owl, and a bookworm. I work with struggling readers and overachievers, ages 11 to 15. I take care of students, a cat, two rabbits, friends, and my husband. I enjoy geocaching, reading, volksmarching, gardening, crocheting for charity, lecturing, science fiction, learning, and teaching. My favorite colors are blue, green, and purple. I am judgmental, dyslexic, sweet, overweight, graying, short, generous, loving, supportive, and chronically early to meetings. I’m afraid of snakes, putting my head underwater, heights, depths, and failure.

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