Beauty in Rocks

For decades I have been fascinated by the beauty of rocks.  Not one to study in a formal way, my pleasure is a simple enjoyment of the shapes, textures and formations of the rock.  I have rocks formed by sand filling up shells that we picked up in Oregon in 1971.  These rocks are glued to a piece of flat driftwood picked up on the same beach.  They told me they needed to stay together.

Since that trip to Oregon rocks have been my souvenir of choice.  I have smooth rocks from the glacial residue of the Dakotas and Great Lakes regions.  Flat pieces of shale, granite chips and simple pebbles fill dishes and shelves inside my home.  There is the beautifully colored turquoise and deep rose rocks from outside Glacier National Park.  A ten inch one is on display on our hearth along with the heart shaped rock from the Grand Teton area.

Early spring, 2008

For 10 or 12 years as we worked on the backyard garden our Jeep trips were spent looking for flat rocks.  In this part of the world the earth grows rocks so most folks are pleased to have some of the "things" carried away. It was on one of these adventures we found the rock that is featured in our pond standing on edge.  It has a hole worn in the middle.  Mr. Hole Rock called my name as we drove down one of the dusty side roads on the way to the Adcock home place outside Miller.

May, 2012 with Mr. Hole Rock in pond.

Other special rocks are from family members who know my appreciation of them.  A large mollusk at the bottom of the sea that once covered Texas is now a rock firmly at home next to my garden pond.  Nearby is the petrified log excavated by Gene's Grandpa Harness somewhere in Kansas almost a century ago.  Gene's family home had several unique rocks that help form the boundary for the pond.  One is the backdrop for the small fountain in a corner of the yard.

Dry riverbed walkway, 2008 with monster rock near the upside down flower pot.

There are small rock walls holding back the soil from the walkways.  I remember the location where most of the rocks called to me.  One monster rock lives at the corner of a path cause that was as far as I could move it after digging it out of a would be flower bed.  Each rock seems to tell me where it will be happy.   Sometimes they get tired of one view and have to be moved.  I have a pile still deciding were to rest.

Not only do I like the look of rocks, I enjoy the sound of walking on pebbles and rocks.  One edge of the yard along the fence that leads to the front is a dry river bed type walkway.  Stepping stones surrounded by Alabama Starburst grace many of the small walks in the back yard.  Some areas are just the Starburst pebbles.  There is a beauty in the sound of walking on the sturdy little pebbles.

One Sunday a few years ago our minister mentioned that our attention could be caught by a simple thing.  And that thing may be sort of a connection to God.  On the way home my gaze was caught by a familiar rock outcropping.  My mind returned to the experience of visiting the Tetons.  The description of the formation of that area of earth had spoken to me.  The sense of a creation that was still being created, evolving and changing was palpable to me in the Tetons.

View of Snake River Valley from Signal Mt., Grand Tetons, 2008

For the first time I recognized why rocks are so special to me.  Why I was so moved by holding, touching and experiencing this hard substance.  This is the stuff of creation.  This is the stuff that was there in the beginning, at the big bang.  For me in that instance I realized that to touch a rock was to tough the face of The Creator.  To hold a rock was to hold The Creator's hand.  To stand on a rock was to be held in The Creator's embrace.  For me there is eternal beauty in rocks.