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Dec. 10th, 2010 10:47 pmTonight is all about procrastination. Instead of doing all the things I meant to do, I cleared a corner where my lounge room meets my kitchen. I washed all the stones and shells and now I have a functioning dust-free water feature. The water feature was given to me by one of my neighbours, for a major birthday, so just cleaning it brought back all sorts of memories of Bev.
When I worked through the stones and shells, though, there were more memories still. I bought that nice slab of marine agate when I was in Year 11. My allowance was supposed to be for clothes and shoes and birthday presents, but I spent a generous part of it on that marine agate and those chunks of azurite and malachite and that small piece of selwynite (there's a story behind the selwynite). Later on I bought some boulder opal and then some rather prettier opal. And the summer in between school and university, I went with the family to New Zealand and that’s where the paua shell comes from and the NZ jade. I have better shell and better jade elsewhere, but these were the pieces that were left after I turned the rest into jewellery and trinkets and gave it to my friends: that jade and that shell represent many friends.
When we went to Queensland (1971?), I spent all my pocket money on a thunderegg and a horseshoe clam. I have both halves of the clam, but not all the thunderegg. We wanted to find our own thunderegg and had explored much mountain with that intent, but we found nothing. We did better (much better) when we went to South Australia. I collected at least four types of limestone that trip (and it was before I was nine, because when I was nine I was very proud of having nine different Australian limestones) and I still have the flint nodule I found near Mt Gambier.
There's the graptolites from the Brisbane Ranges, some chert from Victoria somewhere (could be almost anywhere - we had to go through Victoria to get anywhere at all: all journeys began in Melbourne - but I think I found it near Gembrook, the same trip I found my favourite piece of granodiorite ever, which is unaccountably missing) and a fossilised sea urchin from a beach near home. What I need to add to the collection are my twinned gypsum crystals that we collected in the Hattah Lakes. My aunt (I think) gave me the piece of petrified wood and my friend Cristina sent me the gorgeous fossil from the Andes. She collected it herself and backpacked it across many mountains and it's a thing of awe to me.
The other bits and pieces that needed washing were my ohajiki and an enamel thimble. They belong with the rocks and shells. Always.
When I was a child all of these places were open to collectors, but virtually no-one bothered with them. Now most of the places are closed and a child like me would have to spend even more of her pocket money on rocks.
Every now and again I wondered what it would be like to have normal holidays, when I was young. Now I look at my few remaining rocks and I'm really glad I learned the rock habit instead of the clothes habit. I may never look elegant, but I'll always know how to tell limestone from sandstone and exactly where to hit shale with a geo pick if you want to see the graptolites within.
I'm certain this makes me a better writer. It definitely makes me a better teacher. And I still pick up the small piece of bloodstone and want to write stories about it, exactly the way I did when I first spotted it, when I was thirteen.
When I worked through the stones and shells, though, there were more memories still. I bought that nice slab of marine agate when I was in Year 11. My allowance was supposed to be for clothes and shoes and birthday presents, but I spent a generous part of it on that marine agate and those chunks of azurite and malachite and that small piece of selwynite (there's a story behind the selwynite). Later on I bought some boulder opal and then some rather prettier opal. And the summer in between school and university, I went with the family to New Zealand and that’s where the paua shell comes from and the NZ jade. I have better shell and better jade elsewhere, but these were the pieces that were left after I turned the rest into jewellery and trinkets and gave it to my friends: that jade and that shell represent many friends.
When we went to Queensland (1971?), I spent all my pocket money on a thunderegg and a horseshoe clam. I have both halves of the clam, but not all the thunderegg. We wanted to find our own thunderegg and had explored much mountain with that intent, but we found nothing. We did better (much better) when we went to South Australia. I collected at least four types of limestone that trip (and it was before I was nine, because when I was nine I was very proud of having nine different Australian limestones) and I still have the flint nodule I found near Mt Gambier.
There's the graptolites from the Brisbane Ranges, some chert from Victoria somewhere (could be almost anywhere - we had to go through Victoria to get anywhere at all: all journeys began in Melbourne - but I think I found it near Gembrook, the same trip I found my favourite piece of granodiorite ever, which is unaccountably missing) and a fossilised sea urchin from a beach near home. What I need to add to the collection are my twinned gypsum crystals that we collected in the Hattah Lakes. My aunt (I think) gave me the piece of petrified wood and my friend Cristina sent me the gorgeous fossil from the Andes. She collected it herself and backpacked it across many mountains and it's a thing of awe to me.
The other bits and pieces that needed washing were my ohajiki and an enamel thimble. They belong with the rocks and shells. Always.
When I was a child all of these places were open to collectors, but virtually no-one bothered with them. Now most of the places are closed and a child like me would have to spend even more of her pocket money on rocks.
Every now and again I wondered what it would be like to have normal holidays, when I was young. Now I look at my few remaining rocks and I'm really glad I learned the rock habit instead of the clothes habit. I may never look elegant, but I'll always know how to tell limestone from sandstone and exactly where to hit shale with a geo pick if you want to see the graptolites within.
I'm certain this makes me a better writer. It definitely makes me a better teacher. And I still pick up the small piece of bloodstone and want to write stories about it, exactly the way I did when I first spotted it, when I was thirteen.