"The ship that will not obey the helm will have to obey the rocks" --old English proverb
I may have mentioned that I -sort of- collect rocks. Not valuable, portable things like hundred dollar bills. Nope; it's rocks. I am descended from dedicated rock-hounds, my adventurous maternal grandparents, and just can't help admiring pretty or unusual rocks. I lug them home and pile display them all over my house and yard. I have only one box-full of my grandparents' beautiful, carefully labeled specimens because, in a rare flash of insight years ago, I realized that it was truly unwise to own more special rocks than I could carry. Besides, if I ever want to look at the rest of them I can since my brothers have them, which makes their wives extremely happy, because I mean really, wouldn't you want your spouse to bring home half a ton of rocks? Don't you want to live right where you do now, (because who moves a thousand pounds of freaking rocks), until you die?
At least if either sister-in-law ever wants to bash my brother's head in frustration, there are hundreds of lethal weapons within easy reach.
When I bought my house, it hadn't been built yet, but alone on the lot stood an old fireplace, hand built of native stones. Patiently waiting for me to come along and build a house with this view out my front window. The Dowager Countess of Grantham had Downton Abbey; but I have
The House With the Fireplace.
I don't believe in fate, but if I did, then this was meant to be.
If I stand in my yard and look west I can see this pile of rocks heaped in my neighbor's side yard next to the street. It's been there for years--there are weeds and lizards in the pile--and when I go past on my morning stroll power-walk sometimes I look to see if any of them are pretty or remarkable in some way. They are just garden-variety boring old landscape stones, but one day I spied an attractive tiger-striped one and rationalized that if I replaced it with several similar-but-plain stones from my yard, I wouldn't feel bad about bringing the stripey one home. After all, her net rock volume would be twenty pounds higher than it was before, which seemed more than fair. Generous, even.
So that's what I did.
Apparently she saw me.
I'll never eat lunch in this town again.
"Next time do it in the middle of the night!"
He tried to tell me.
Oh, the shame!
ReplyDeleteI loved your grandma's house. I was a serious rockhound, too, and my great-aunt and uncle were REALLY serious collectors, about like your grandma. When we'd visit their house, it was like being in Candyland. Beautiful colors everywhere, magical rocks from all over the world, stuff sliced thin and set into resin in a coffee table...wondrous and fascinating.
All our planters in the house and out, have many many rocks that provide decoration and keep the moisture in the soil. So we tell ourselves.
I also love rocks as landscape in the garden. I'd LOVE to have that fireplace in our yard :-) We have actually bought one or two larger rocks from a landscape place, and we had fun picking out different types of flat rocks to create paths through our gardens.
ReplyDeleteIt's a lot more exciting to steal them. If you aren't lucky enough for your husband to inherit them, of course.
DeleteBusted!!
ReplyDeleteMy husband and daughter both like rocks a lot and our windowsills and mantle are overflowing with interesting ones.