He turned his back to walk inside his house while jingling the coins in his pocket.

The metal tip of Carl Henderson’s brass surveying pole clinked against a buried iron pin at eight o’clock the next morning.

Carl, the retired county surveyor, bent down and wiped his brow with a blue handkerchief.

He spit a stream of dark tobacco juice near the base of my lilac bush.

“Found the original northwest corner pin,” Carl said in his low, gravelly drawl.

“It is exactly where the county parcel plat map from 1974 said it would be.”