The large kiva we were working on was apparently the structure furthest from the creek and highest in elevation, on a Pleistocene bench well above the flood plain. Spreading out below it would have been scores of smaller pit houses, and fanning out below the "neighborhood" were terraced plots growing vegetables and herbs, watered by a sophisticated ditch system and apparently, even a reservoir.
"Our" kiva, roughly 30 feet in diameter, was used for ceremonial purposes, and at some point was "decommissioned" -- cleaned out, filled with combustibles and burned. Among the finds today were pieces of charred roof timbers that survived the fire. Other than that, artifacts were scarce -- a few flakes and a couple of bits of broken pottery. A small shard I found appeared to be El Paso brownware with a patch of red paint still clinging to it.
Archaeology can be very exciting, but in between the moments of glory, there are many long hours of hard physical labor under the sun. First thing I did when I got home was wash down aspirin with an ice cold root beer.
It was immediately clear to me why archaeologists love to recruit eager college kids to do this work ...
This is the partially exposed floor of the community kiva, which was about 9 1/2 meters in diameter. The outer arc near David's knee is where the wall stood, and in front of that is the bench that the villagers would have sat on as they watched the ceremonial dances in the cool, dark space of the kiva. The bench was coated with multiple layers of plaster -- and in some kivas the bench was painted. The plastic tarp at left covers the hearth and fire pit, which rings like ceramic when touched with a trowel; the hot fires vitrified the soil over time. Lot of hard work remains to clear the pit floor and expose the rest of the bench and walls.
