A week ago, we went to visit my mom at the family cabin. It was a fun visit, especially for the girls: they got to pick rocks.
Rocks, you say? Yes, the highlight of this cabin's location is not close proximity to a beautiful lake where you can swim or fish (no such lake within miles). No significant body of water is nearby, in fact; and Silver Creek, which meanders through the property, is just that--- a creek. It's nice to look at, but that's about it.
No, one of the main highlights of this cabin is its close proximity to a gravel pit. Where you can pick rocks.
It's interesting to note that this part of the state is known for its agates, which are essentially a poor-man's gemstone. They can be very pretty. And they can be found quite easily, with just a bit of hunting and poking around this gravel pit.
So that's usually what I do (and I once found one with a rough outline of the state of MN in it: the state agate?). But our girls seem just as happy to pick up any old rocks, as long as they're sizable and smooth, so that they can paint them.
A few days later, their newest crop of rocks have become a new rock garden next to their playhouse in our backyard. And I have to say, the rocks do provide a nice alternative to agates. While they do not have the sensuous layers of silica, they possess a certain nature that is both quaint and mystical:
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