Wednesday, October 04, 2006

I have a thing for rocks. There is something about them that makes me want to look at them, collect them and find something to do with them. This rock is one I found that I call the happy rock. Doesn't it look like it's smiling? Sean and the boys think it looks like Jabba the Hut from Star Wars. It has a nice spot in my garden where I can see it. We have many larger versions of this type of rock lining the backyard and down the side next to the woods. They're interesting shapes with holes and crators in them. I don't really know if they're igneous, metamorphic or sedimentary but I call them dinosaur rocks because they look like they came from the cretateous era.

On the beaches of Cape Cod I spend hours walking and looking at the beautiful stones that wash up on the beach. When the kids were little they would carry their backpacks with their towels in them. They wondered why when we left the beach the packs were so much heavier than when they arrived. Finally they figured out that I had put the stones I'd collected in them. I know, what kind of mother loads up the kids. Well, I did. I had to carry chairs, umbrella, beach toys and the cooler. Well, not really, Sean carried most of the stuff. :)

When anyone I know is going out of the country I ask them to bring me back a pretty rock. My nephew told me there are no pretty rocks in Iraq so I didn't get one from there. That's okay, I'd rather he kept his head up.

When we first moved into our house 23 years ago an older lady came down and introduced herself to me. Mrs. R as I came to call her, was a widow with no children of her own. Turns out she loved rocks too. She was originally from Nova Scotia and told me that everytime she went home she would bring back rocks with her. The custom agents would tease her about smuggling pieces of Canada out of the country. Mrs. R had one special rock that she loved. Eventually she had to go into a nursing home but she wanted me to keep that rock. She knew I understood. She passed away several years ago and I couldn't keep that rock. I took it to the funeral home and asked would they please put that rock in with her. I wanted her to have a piece of her homeland with her forever. I loved her and sometime will tell you about her.

So do I have rocks in my head? I don't know. I don't really know what it is about them that I like.


Pyrhonik said...

Appreciation of the nature around you is always good. We share this. My daughters have inherited it as well, especially the oldest, she has rocks from all over the planet, brought back for her by so many different people. For me, I have kept special rocks that make me remember moments that I have had. Particularly, a smooth rock from my honeymoon and a very edgy rock from the hospital parking lot when my last daughter was born.

So, if you're crazy, I am crazy too :)