Sunday, October 20, 2013
Thirteen stones are arranged in a circle like pages torn from a diary by a grassy knoll. I see people meditating there sometimes amid the fragmented stories of days gone by. Aboriginal peoples, pioneers and families reach out as if from a dream or a poem. Is not "leaf shaker's moon" a lovely way to convey winter is coming?
I enjoyed reading the notes on stones amid the thousands of timeless, wordless rocks also in the area. These strong silent types laze around all day without having a single thing to say.
Muddy Boot Dreams, I include a picture of another one of the 33 stones that speaks for itself at Crescent Beach. It says, “ … years of summer children running barefoot free in the dusty roads ‘til dusk and the horn of the night train calls them home.”
I suspect an inward search can unearth similar wonder at any age ... even when trains are less melodic, and too frequent, and dusty roads are paved and cracked. In early childhood each new moment becomes a piece of forever inscribed into memories that shape future perspectives.
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Copyright by Penelope Puddlisms