Rockpile

     I'm sure that most of you have picked some type of fruit in your lifetime, such as strawberries,raspberries, apples,blueberries etc.but if there is one thing a farmer's kid knows about picking, it's "rocks". The funny thing about rocks, no matter how many you pick more keep popping up.They come in all shapes,sizes and colors.  Some of them are rough while others are smooth. It doesn't take long before a "rock picker" knows which ones are perfect for picking and tossing on the back of a farm wagon. All rocks take the same journey, they end up on the "rockpile". 

     Our farm had two huge rockpiles the "upper" and "lower".  This particular day Rex and I were headed to the lower one. I had my American  Flyer  packed with dad's mallet, mom's 5 gal. pail and our emergency supplies which included: 2 peanut butter sandwiches, 1-apple and 3-date filled cookies and a mason jar filled with water, which Rex and I would share in the shade of an old maple tree located next to the rock hedge. On the way we picked up my best friend-Grandpa and off we went. The rockpile was about two miles from home along dirt road.

     Grandpa pulled the wagon while we talked about the good old days of his childhood and how all the plowing was done with horses.  I loved to listen about what it was like back then. It was hard for me to think of Grandpa as a little boy and it made me laugh to listen to his stories. Before I realized , we were at the rockpile.  You have to realize rock splitting was one of my favorite pastimes. I loved the feel of the rock in my hand, placing it on a large rock and splitting it, to see what the rock looked like inside. I was fascinated by how something that looked so plain on the outside could be so beautiful on the inside. Grandpa would tell me people are like that also. Some may look plain on the outside, they may have rough edges but inside are full of love and kindness.

     I loved all the different colors found inside each rock. Some were plain with dark veins running through, others had  crystals on the inside, pink, white, purple and others were hallow with  multi-colored crystals. Grandpa  and I would fill our pail with my favorite to be taken home and resorted, cleaned and put into my rock collection. When we were finished with sorting the rocks it was time for lunch . We would sit under the maple tree and enjoy our food and feel the gentle breeze which was always on Potter Hill. On the way home we sang,"she'll be commin' 'round the mountain", one of his favorite songs.