On a recent rocking excursion in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert a rushing stream blocked access to the mine we sought. But, no matter, the view was more than worth the trip.
People stare when you say you collect rocks. It’s almost as if they can’t quite wrap their heads around an adult’s desire to get nose-deep in dirt in pursuit of a stone.
I have been collecting rocks all my life. There are old photos of me standing near a large mound of soil, diligently putting pebbles in a cup when I was still toddling about in diapers. My mother, now 92, often recounts my arrival home from Girl Scout camp when I was maybe 10. My suitcase rested on the sidewalk in a line with others, having just been retrieved from the belly of a bus. When she lifted the bag, the handle broke off and, upon hitting the ground, the…
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