Oh, bricks are interesting enough. Actually they are a nice bit of local history. And I do, literally, stumble across them in my hunt for other stuff. But for we retired folk there is a danger. It is too easy for a mild interest to become a thing you collect. Pretty soon you own a pick up truck to drive to Brick Swaps and have your entire back yard covered in a lumpy brick patio.
But Brick Yards are interesting darn it. Clay pits. Kilns. Acres of drying racks. So I sometimes take a peek. Just out of curiosity you know. Not going to pick up any bricks or anything.
It helps to start on an avenue called Brick Yard Road. Now, I must admit I initially misread this sign. I thought it said Brick Yard Dog.
Bricks popping out of the ground everywhere. Guess this must be the place.
I am new at this brand of hunting, so I will be tentative in my conclusions. But this hollowed out area "might" be the clay pit from which many millions of bricks were made. Or it could be natural. Just as with brewery caves there are logical places where a business would situate things. Bricks and their raw materials are just about the definition of heavy, so you really do not want to haul things up hill.
A pleasant hour was spent wandering about. I am pleased to report that I did not walk away with a single brick. But the temptations, oh they were there. It is not fair to put free building materials and a shelter with cute adoptable pups on the same road.