Geocaching for Riverboxes at the Dublin Arts Center.

After parking outside the Dublin Arts Council, we took a moment to savor the view. Then we decided to go ahead and hunt for the first geocache, a riverbox with an uncanny name, D’art’s No Litter Cat Box, one that deserved further investigation.

For those unfamiliar with riverboxes, the Dublin Arts Center sponsors a series of geocaches called Riverboxes, all of which are created by local artists or artisans. You can download a Riverbox Passport and guide for free online.

The Eldest survyed the base of a statue on the front lawn of the Dublin Arts Center. He held the printouts which included only descriptive clues (rather than GPS coordinates) to the riverbox.

Once we got within ten feet of the cache, we were alerted to its hiding spot by the simultaneous chirp of three children- “Found it!” The riverbox was filled with swag and goodies. We left our names and logged it in the Coryell Castle Geocaching Logbook.

Upon entering the Dublin Arts Center, we discovered a large, golden tabby cat curled atop a desk near the front door. For a few moments, no one else appeared- it was just us and the cat. Gnome wasted no time in sneaking a pet.

Soon, a friendly lady appeared to introduce us to D’art, the gallery cat, the namesake of the riverbox we had just discovered. The ladies offered supplications and thanks for the swag. Meanwhile, the Eldest had wandered into the art gallery. We followed suit.

In addition to the wood art exhibit, there was a funky-looking piano in the center of the room. First they gawked at it.

Then they rocked it.

Because a funky blue-polka dot piano is only yours for the playing once in life. And who would you be to refuse it?

We set out down the hill behind the Arts Center in search of our second riverbox, Riverbox of the Sun. The littlest ones took the lead.

Bunicu stops to scout out a stump.

Inside the Riverbox of the Sun, we found a collection of painted rocks and pebbles, the sort of swag that hangs heavy in the pocket. Prophet counted the pebbles before announcing that each of us could only take one so that a total of twelve pebbles would remain.

As the Eldest and I did the dull work of logging and noting, other members of the caravan argued the case for running down the rest of the hill to the bank of swollen Scioto River.

Bunicu apparently spotted a few geese across the way, and the King noted a geocache located on the uninhabitable 10 foot island plumb center of the river. “It would only take a minute to swim across and log it……” observed the King.

Fortunately, everyone got distracted by the presence of an eerie building out back- the kind of building that ached to tell us a good, old-fashioned ghost story. Possibly the dwelling of the Scioto River rambler, a ghost known to travel with a hobo stick and knotted kerchief? If not a ghost, then at least an excellent creative writing prompt for the Eldest and his journal.

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