"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again..." Actually I dreamed I went rock hunting again because I did.
I went back to the dirt road where we used to take the grandkids in the pickup and come back with a LOAD of rocks.
The rocks are still there, waiting to be picked. Only now I try to limit myself to only a few.
I come home with more pictures than rocks. (Flower of what we called Jimsonweed, though it has many more, interesting, names.)
Where once a farmstead stood.
Lush Iowa countryside, wild oats and tiger lilies on a perfect June day.
Those cows wondered why I was taking a picture of them. "Haven't you ever seen cows before?" They thought I was some city woman. Little did they know!
A spot where the East Nodaway River runs North.
The Swallows did not appreciate me on their bridge. Soon the sky was full of diving, churee whistling birds trying to drive me away. They succeeded!
Home with my treasures washed and arrayed. Hard to choose a favorite.
But I think it has to be this one - a smooth 2-3/4" by 1" greenish-gray stone with a perfect thumb rubbing groove. An elongated worry stone.
Of course what I was really hoping to find was something like this unusual specimen found by a rock hunting friend of ours. I could say he is lucky except it is just as much persistence as he goes hunting several times a month.
I enjoyed yesterday's adventure so much, I may just have to look for some more dirt roads and rocks and perfect Iowa summer days.
"I am sure that in nine out of ten cases the original wish to write is the wish to make oneself felt." (Elizabeth Bowen)
As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a writer. Writing a blog is going to be as close as I come.