Life on the farm with the Man…and our critters…

Rocks in my head…

One of the many things about me that endears me to the Man is my collection of rocks that are scattered throughout the Farm.  He enjoys gently chiding me about them, that there are too many and they fill up every flat space available.  To the untrained eye, they may appear to be just rocks of all shapes and sizes, textures and colors.  But to me, each stone represents a memory.  I have some large, rounded pieces of lava from a beach in Hawaii, and I can still hear the sound of them being tumbled around by the force of the waves. I can close my eyes, and I am back on that beach with the Man, holding hands and feeling like kids.

Some of my favorite rocks have come from our time spent in Sedona.  There is the rock on a shelf in my study with the large vein of copper running through it, which we found in an old copper mine during a snow storm.  On another shelf sits a large, weathered piece of “red rock”, found while the Man and I were fishing for catfish under a massive cottonwood.  On my desk are two colorful pieces of agate, one blue, one red, that I found when we stopped in the lowlands to admire a field of blooming cactus. Geodes, petrified wood, and a few fossils also have their place in the Farm.

To me, a rock will never fade like a photo- graph, or get fuzzy like a memory.  It never changes, and will always be like it was at the moment it was found.  It is texture, something you can hold, and even smell.  And they all remind me of time spent with the Man…

One response

  1. I never thought about rock’s in that way. I have a few that i took from my aunt’s house before she passed away. They just looked like rock’s to me but i now think that she probably picked them up when out on one of her travel’s. Maby they came from Canada or some other place that she had been. But when i came across them while cleaning out her house i thought to myself, i wonder where these rock’s came from. Now i know that they must have held a special memory for her. Why else would she have rock’s in her house. I am glad i did not throw them out. I will never think of them as just rock’s again, but as a memory from the past.

    January 24, 2011 at 6:19 am

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