While mowing the front yard, I discovered what may be a portal to another dimension. I was bopping along, cutting down dandelions, clover and the occasional blades of grass that make up a majority of the lawn when I noticed something peculiar near the circular garden spot where we raise tomatoes, peppers and squash for various neighborhood critters to eat before we get a chance to harvest. It was a hole in the ground, slightly larger in circumference than a basketball. âWell, thatâs a new one,â I thought. Was I surprised by this development? No. I live in a former mill village, just down the street from the smokestack that towered over the cotton mill where in 1929 striking workers clashed with law officers and blood was shed, getting national attention at the time.