The Pit

Oil, 34x48

I grew up in a house built in 1784.  A few summers ago, my father discovered a trash pit in the backyard.  While excavating all the broken jars and porcelain plates, a boulder fell and crushed one of his fingers.  It was so bad, the doctors thought they would have to cut it off. 

It still hasn't been filled in and whenever friends come over through the back door, I have to warn them of falling into the pit.