rocks and rocks and rocks (part 1)

If you look around my backyard, you’ll find lots of rocks. Some form borders around flower beds, while others outline the dry river bed. There are many flat ones surrounding my garden pond. Yep, I just plain and simple like rocks.


Numerous and oodles and heaps of rocks came from a creek where my grandparents lived in Tennessee. I believe the rest are from North Carolina. There are a few from the Rocky River and the Deep River, some were randomly found on the ground, some were given to me, and others came from here or there or somewhere. Over the years, the Watauga River has provided the largest number. The Valle Crucis, Blowing Rock, and Boone areas are near and dear to my heart. And, my Watauga rocks remind me of a special, beloved place.

*(I have a reasonable explanation for the rocks in my yard. They weren’t ‘taken’, they were merely ‘relocated’. I’ve only removed rocks from places that wouldn’t damage or harm the natural flow of the physical surrounding area.)


So, I have a large collection of rocks, all kinds and all shapes and all sizes and all colors. Some have bright specks, some are perfectly smooth, some are fossils, some rough and sharp, some are very heavy and some not so much and some...


Why do I like rocks? I’m not sure. I must have received the ‘rock gene’ from my Dad. He started all this by gathering as many creek rocks that could fit in the car trunk. Then, they traveled from Tennessee to North Carolina. (Another ‘relocation’!)


to be continued