Beach finds meet a garden find

Get yourself a bit older house and you find little pieces and reminders of people who used to live in the house. We don't know too much of them. We know the family before us who moved over to French Alps, and we know the older couple before them; he is an illustrator of a beloved storybook teddy bear (we were told that back then, the color of the house was pinkish - I really like the idea). But about any earlier people, I have no clue.

Our part-time neighbor, a lady in her eighties or nineties, once shared a memory from the past decades: The young man of our house would bring his girl to our backyard, where there is a tiny hill or rather like a rock. On a light summer night, the young couple would sit on a rock, and he would play music with a wind-up gramophone to his fiancee.

I liked her story, never mind if it got a happy end or not.

This little piece of broken stone wear could be five years old, or fifteen or fifty. But nevertheless it's happily joining the other little beach finds.