Some Rocks

On this cool morning at the time of the summer when the green-headed coneflowers are at their height (six or seven feet) and the seven species of goldenrods are coming on, which means all the asters are getting ready to begin their show, I thought I'd make a photographic tour of our major rocks.

While they do tend to just sit there, that wasn't always the case. All of these guys have traveled far to come to their current places of abode. The last glacier carried them most of the way, various farmers and bulldozer operators have moved them into more specific locations, and even my sons and I have moved some locally, using bodily strength, a spud bar, and gravity.

Much of our experience of living in the center of Michigan's Lower Peninsula has to do with rocks. Every spring more begin to appear in the surface of our mowed areas, and I have to clear them away. Most of them are the sizes of things like softballs, footballs, and basketballs. But you can't tell when you first plant the camp shovel in the ground to move one whether you've got a tennis ball or a Volkswagen. So, just as Loren Eiseley says about new creatures emerging from the sea, we can say about new rocks emerging from beneath our feet, that these things must be watched.

I might have to mow new trails now, little cul-de-sacs, to our major rocks to incorporate them into our trail system.

Can you tell that I have syllabi to write?