Rocks

Walking into our school science office never ceases to bring a smile to my heart. Not only do we have the traditional office accoutrements such as a copy machine, paper cutter (circa 1956), pens, pencils and coffee maker, we have lab supplies filling all the nooks and crannies of our given space. It is not unusual to see a beaker of water burbling away on a hot plate while teachers nearby bang on Ziploc bags filled with butterscotch chips for an earth science lesson. Trays are at the ready with scales, coffee filters and gummy bears for a measurement lab. Carts are loaded with calculators and physical science equipment. The refrigerator is host to petri dishes filled with radish seeds awaiting observation of the effects of temperature on living things. Dry ice casts eerie vapors from a cooler on the counter.

And we have rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. Brightly colored margarine tubs feature the rock collections of all shapes and kinds. Glossy smooth obsidian shows off its volcanic past with intense ebon hues. Pretty pink and white quartzite belie their strength as major players in the construction world. Limestone chunks intrigue with a chalky residue. Gneiss shows off sporty bands of feldspar and mica. And, no rock collection is complete without a tub marked miscellaneous. Some rocks just defy typecasting.

Perhaps more interesting than the rocks themselves is the reaction of teachers, science or otherwise, as they walk past the rock containers. An irresistible urge compels most to stop and touch the rocks. Many jettison back to their youth for a moment and recount fond memories of collecting rocks. I, too, remember little buckets filled with rocks collected on our vacation trips. My mother finally had to limit our quota. Our Dodge sedan could only hold so many kids and buckets of bulky rocks. Prioritizing became an early skill as I selected my favorite pieces of mica, rose quartz and a chunk of pyrite I was sure held flecks of true gold. A girl has to dream.

It has been said that kids are losing touch with nature. Flashy video games, YouTube shares, Snapchat drama and Smartphone apps sing a sweet song of entertainment. The things of nature struggle to compete. It is easier to focus on passive screens than to train the eye to watch the flight of a bird. Or squat down to observe a busy beetle. Or classify a tree with a field guide.

Maybe rocks are the answer. They are readily available. They are very tangible. They come in all shapes and sizes. They don't rot (unlike the mushroom collection of my youth. Sorry, mom.). They can be sorted, classified, painted, hidden, named and loved. Ramp it up a few notches with a junior rock polisher. Create jewelry or play hopscotch. All sorts of fun with the humble rock.

So, the next time you are out and about, look down, past the Smartphone and find a rock. If it fancies your curiosity, find out what kind it is or just enjoy it for what it is. Even the miscellaneous of this world never cease to amaze.

My husband's childhood rock kit. He also had a rock polisher. Spoiled baby.

Spared

"Good coffee and old stories are two of life's glories"--GK

A few weeks ago, I schlepped a big black trash bag of sundry contents to the trash bin in my garage. My husband happened to be in the garage and glanced at me with a bit of curiosity. I looked at him and said, "Look away. Just look away. I am in a purging mood and this bag of stuff needs to be gone." When his eyebrows raised, I added, "There is nothing in here that belongs to you. I promise."

It is true. I am a purger. It is also true that I do not purge his stuff. Mostly. Few moments give me more satisfaction than ousting goods that I deem obsolete or annoying. Acquiring and keeping new possessions must always pass the Big 3 for me: Do you fill a need (not want!)? Are you worth cleaning? Are you worthy of the space you inhabit? If the answer is no to any of the questions, the item will not be a permanent resident in my house.

That being said, I do have belongings that are safe from my grim reaper's bag, so far. Here are a few.

1) Garrison Keillor mugs.--We are a family of coffee drinkers so it doesn't take long for a collection of travel mugs, cups and souvenirs to accumulate. We have a valid need for mugs but our real estate space can only support so many receptacles. I have tossed out many cups along the way, but my Keillor mugs have never been on the chopping block. They bring me too much joy. I love to start my day with a steaming cup of coffee in a mug adorned with a few words of wisdom from Lake Wobegon such as "growing up in a place that has winter, you learn to avoid self-pity."

2)  Oil dispenser.--My daughter gave me a funky looking cooking oil dispenser as a gift. It is the kind of thing I would never have purchased on my own. Why go through the work of pouring oil into another container when the original one works just fine? What I didn't expect is how convenient a pour spout can be. Rather than spending time undoing a lid, glugging a sheen of oil in a pan and replacing said lid, I now just grab and pour, meting out the right amount of oil. And, the dispenser looks much more attractive on my counter than a Mazola bottle.

3) Sugar pig.--I come from a family of hog producers so my connection to the little oinkers is only once removed. I certainly do not collect little piggie things but many years ago I was given the gift of a blue ceramic pig. It is used to hold and dispense sugar. As with the oil dispenser, it is not something I would willfully purchase. But, to my surprise, the cute little porker has earned its keep. Its chubby shape is just the right size for grabbing when a little sugar is needed. And its innocent demeanor reminds me that everything is better with a bit of sweetness.

I am still in a pitchy mood but I also know it is wise to take breaks from my fits of dumping. I can get a little overzealous and make my world too spartan at times. And, my husband needs a break from bulging black trash bags being suspiciously mashed into the trash bin.