We’ve had an exciting summer so far: trips for the teenagers to Boy Scout Camp and working for a week on a farm in Oklahoma and then a lovely family trip to the mountains. Trips usually mean souvenirs. And that’s the case with us this summer. Now I’ve been known to collect expensive souvenirs. Perhaps it wouldn’t shock you if I confessed a certain trip to England resulting in quite a stunning array of blue & white china. But that was BC (before children)
My friend Elaine introduced me to the idea of collecting rocks as souvenirs. She used them around a fish pond in her garden, and would point to a rock as she toured her guests, “this one we picked up in…” and a big smile would cross her face as she retold an adventure or described a beautiful panorama. She got me hooked, so now we haul rocks home from wherever we go. So this summer, we’re adding to our growing collection scattered around Chalk Hill:
- a rock from the farm where my boys first learned to drive
- a stone from a boy scout camp where they learned not to complain of the heat
- and a pebble from the rapids where all but the guide fell out of the raft
China plates break, as do trinkets and knick knacks. But these rocks will outlive their paint pen markings and our memories.