I would like to think that my storytelling muscles are in fine shape, but the more I do this daily story-workout, the more I find that there are all kinds of new ways to flex and strengthen. Tonight, my husband asked if I would like to take this pile of stuff to the lake — or would I kindly like to find another place for it that is not under his feet on the patio.
There you go. A story. Shaped from a pile of rocks and shells.
These are geodes from a creek down in the “forks” of Kentucky. You can see some are open and full of quartz. Those are the ones we took from the creek to the roadside and threw ’em on the hardtop to crack ’em open and see what’s inside. The other ones are waiting for another day to hatch. The whelks are from Wilmington Beach, North Carolina. These bleached bones remind me every day — that’s not covered in snow — of my tar-heel roots and of my baby brother’s proud accomplishments as a marine scientist. (The four Virginias combed the beach while we were there for his graduation.)
The gray stones are from our honeymoon in Petoskey, Michigan. They’re not “real” Petoskey Stones, but they are stones from Petoskey. And I love ’em.
Bits ‘n’ pieces make me really happy.
ginnygram 
It must be a Southern thing..I have a similar collection of shells, driftwood, rocks and golfballs! Keep up the good work. Your blog is one of my daily highlights!
Don’t you dare dump them in the lake! Those represent precious memories.
Taking them to the lake to enjoy, not toss! Never in a billion years would I discard my treasures!
This made me think of my hometown. My Uncle Joe used to go geode hunting. He would go to creek bed and spot these gems – he was knows for his geodes. He knew how to crack them and had them displayed throughout his home. My parents had some uncracked ones that they gave to my kids and I think that we eventually got rid of them