Our family spends an inordinate amount of time hunting down old family cemeteries and graves, hoping to find a piece of ourselves. (The above is my Dad at Snells Bush Church Cemetery in New York)
One day at work in Burlington, Iowa, a co-worker said she was going with a group to learn to dowse so they could find the graves in a Paupers Field. This interested me and was the start of many small experiments with “the sticks,” as we call them.
Thay came in very handy when Gideon couldn’t talk to tell us what was wrong, or when deciding which oil to use to help heal.
Sometimes, like in the above picture up Diamond Fork Canyon, they all go bonkers and then you know to leave it be.
They come in handy when a remote gets thrown in the garbage by tiny hands or finding most missing items.
For mine I prefer a cheap hangar bent at just the right places and cut down to size.
I may tell of a few other times when some rods appeared just when needed but that is for another story.
My kids all know just where to look when they hear the words, “Go get my sticks!”