Last week, I happened to remember a book from my childhood, given to me by my great-grandfather who was as crazy about rocks as I am. His father, Palestine Hanna, was a great collector of stones, bones, and Native American artifacts. People would bring him bones and various relics from all over rural Indiana.
It was easy to find a picture online, because I remembered it it having a black cover. I posted it to my Facebook timeline, and was surprised how many had this exact little book.
I still save rocks. Not for color and shape, like I did when I was a girl, but for their geographical origins, places that hold special meanings. Today, my nondescript collection looks like a few plain stones ... completely meaningless to anyone else.
I do remember, it was the favorite book of my childhood in Osgood, Indiana. Seeing it again was like a visit home. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure, fellow Hoosier!
DeleteTess, do you remember the density of this little book? I like watercolors and I didn't remember the cover as painted illustrations until I saw it again here. I have been visiting your site to read and it is a pleasure.
DeleteI think I might still have a copy of the book downstairs! I'll have to go see if I can find it.
ReplyDeleteWe had 'The Observer Book Of...' everything basically. I did a year's worth of geology night school until I discovered that what I though I had signed up to was 'Palaeontology'.
ReplyDeleteSounds like one of my weird recurring school dreams...
DeleteLike Tom it was observers books for moi...all the wildlife ones.
ReplyDeleteI know most people won't get this, but you might - rocks give me the warm fuzzies. Love 'em.
ReplyDeleteI get it!
DeleteChez Cro is littered with odd bits of stone and artefacts. I believe this obsession (predictably) dates back to the days of 'stone age' man.
ReplyDelete*giggle*
DeleteLove that little book, we still have my husband's childhood copy and our house has bits of stones and minerals scattered about.
ReplyDeleteI was hoping some of you might recognize it...
Deletetotally had this book. all my rocks were brown, though, and crumbled into dust upon striking. maybe I pounded a bit too hard? ~
ReplyDeleteHi Fellow Hoosier! Popped over from Reggie Darling. Terrific blog! Oh gosh yes, I am sure my loved ones think my love of rocks is quite batty. :) Happy Weekend, xo, N.G.
ReplyDeleteAnother fellow Hoosier! Nice to meet you Jennings and Gates...
DeleteYou are a Hoosier Tess? So am I! I'm from Michigan City and it sure is a small world. I also worked for the Geology Museum in Madison for the University of Wisconsin as a volunteer but as such got to go on 2 digs (paid expenses) out in North Dakota where we dug for 2 summers to find a full dinosaur. I worked on fossils and displays it was a lot of fun. I have a huge collection of rocks, crystals and fossils I'm very proud of it. I have the Audubon Field Guide To North American Rocks And Minerals that's my rock Bible. Thanks for bringing up the memories!
ReplyDeleteA rockhound's daughter here; that book was in my father's collection. So you too may have passed childhood vacations squatting in creeks, looking for garnets.
ReplyDeleteI totally get rocks!! My grands love to search for the perfect ones too! Fun, fun!
ReplyDeleteWe had that book. Rock picks, Rock bags (cut off bottoms of jeans) and rock tumbler, we went from finding agates to jade to sapphires. Now I am an artist making sculpture of....rock wood and wire. My preference these days is the rock with a single stripe. I am not opposed to taking decorative gravel or screaming STOP to my husband so we can retrieve a stone that shouted to me as we drove by. Oh yeah, THAT BOOK.
ReplyDeleteI too have this book. My grandmother bought it for me on a day excursion into the Gold Country of the Sierra Foothills. She also bought me a small box that contained small stones glued to a piece of cardboard with their names written below.
ReplyDeleteToday I have rocks all over the house, inside and out. I find one in the orchard that calls out and it makes it to the front step, inside to a basket if it's lucky. Sometimes I think about their age and realize that there is nothing else in the house that has been around as long as these little rocks. The journey they've traveled is beyond what I can imagine. And when I die they won't be sold at an estate sale. They will be tossed out waiting for the next person sometime in the future to discover them.
My great-grandfather gave me that same box of small stones blued to the cardboard...
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