Continuing from yesterday’s post about quartz, I thought I would write about some of the other rocks in my gardens. They are everywhere. I have some ringing large circular flowerbeds around trees. Some are in a raised flowerbed that was built to keep the dirt from washing away from the side of the house. And some are nestled among my azaleas.
Some of these rocks have traveled many miles to get here to East Texas. I started collecting them when we lived in Omaha, NE, and would visit friends in South Dakota. They have a large farm and when David plowed, Jan and I would walk behind and pick up the large rocks dug up by the plow. A necessary farm chore in places like that. Every time we visited, I would bring home several large rocks and smaller stones.
Visits to Michigan and my niece’s farm would follow a similar pattern, except there I did not do the work of picking up the rocks in the field. My niece always had a few she had set aside for when Aunt Maryann came to visit, and those went home with me to Omaha.
When we were moving back to Texas, we were moving on our own dime and my husband said no way could we afford to pay to move those rocks and stones. Moving companies charge by the pound.
My husband is not as attached to things as I am. He did not understand what those rocks meant to me, but one of my son’s did. So Michael drove his truck from Austin to Omaha, and he and I drove those rocks to our new place here. Every day I can go out and walk around our property and see the rocks and remember where they came from.
One of the special rocks is a pudding stone from Michigan. For seasoned rock pickers, which includes my mother, my sister and I, finding a pudding stone at the farm or at the lake is quite exciting. They are not very common, and I had to fight my sister and mother off to be able to bring that one home.
The stone with the green striping was found at the lake in Lake City, Michigan. I saw just the top peeping out of the dirt and begged my nephew to dig it out with his pocket knife, which he did after just a bit of muttering about did I know how hard that was going to be. He told me next time to bring a shovel.
My youngest daughter, Dany, can tell us all about our rocks and what minerals are in them. She earned a degree in geology, and when I told my mother what Dany was studying, Mother asked what that was. The simple answer, “She studies rocks.”
“Oh, she’s another rock picker. Well, she comes by that naturally.”
Yes she does.