Rocks are the time-keepers, recording the history of our planet throughout the ages. A lot of my own history is marked by time spent with rocks. In my recent history, they became the foundation, the very soul, of my artwork. They make up the skeleton of my garden. I love rocks and so I find all sorts of ways to incorporate them into my life. But all of that is how I interact with them now. Here’s a little history about me and rocks from way back. My love for rocks first took root rock-hounding for petrified wood in Louisiana.
Me and Rocks go Way Back
Before I moved to the Ozarks I already loved rocks. I just had to travel to actually interact with them, or buy them if I wanted any in my garden. The sticker shock that came with the purchase of a few flat paving stones, though, kept that practice to a minimum even 35 years ago.
In my mid 20’s one of my favorite places to look for rocks in the wild was in a gravel pit alongside a little bayou not too far from the Mississippi river in W. Feliciana parish. It was about an hour and a half from where I lived in Ascension parish (driving and walking/wading time). I’d go straight there sometimes after getting off of night shift. I worked in a laboratory farther south on the river at one of the chemical plants.
More a Creek than a Bayou
Bayou Sara didn’t look like the classical Louisiana bayous you might imagine. No muddy lazy water in this bayou.
Since St. Francisville and Tunica Hills area are hilly with ancient loess soils, this bayou had clear flowing water and sandy bottoms. It was very much like the Ozarks. Now there are subdivisions on both sides of that bayou, but when I used to tromp around there, it was still wilderness.
Those hills and sandy creeks, and abundant rocks is what started the slow burn within me that would eventually lead to my relocation to the land we now call Wild Ozark in Madison county, Arkansas.
But back to me and rocks finding each other in a land known for swamps, not rocks. I just had to know where to go to find them… and a gravel pit was perfect.
Sneaking In to Forbidden Places
Since you can’t just drive into a gravel pit without good reason, I had to take the ‘back door in’. This involved a hike/wade in, which is what brings me to Bayou Sara. A coworker introduced me to this bayou. He used to hunt for mammoth bones there. After he showed me where it was, I began going on my own. And one day I discovered the mother of all rock-hounding spots… a gravel pit downstream.
In hindsight, this was an extremely dangerous thing to do, as no one would have had a clue where to start looking for me if I didn’t make it home.
But I was young and fearless then. And the bayou was a delight with cold spring water, and easy walking sand. There was also an occasional false bottom that the locals called quick sand, but thankfully the creek never got more than upper thigh deep.
I’m glad for the memories of time spent alone. I’d bring a sandwich lunch to eat while sitting atop a mound of gravel rocks. Between bites, I’d toss a small rock, listen for the distinctive ping the rock made if it struck petrified wood. When it pinged the right sound, I’d make a mad scramble down the mound to locate the coveted ‘rock’.
I sometimes found petrified bones, but not sure what kind. Someone had once reportedly found a mammoth jaw out there, too. But I went on the hike mostly to be alone, escape stress, enjoy the nature, feel the cold water, and look for petrified wood.
Still a Journey Ahead
Bayou Sara became a part of my past within a few years because … well, life got in the way. Me and rocks parted ways for another decade.
When I first visited the Ozarks in my early 40’s, it felt like the rocks here called me ‘home’. The groundwork had already been laid and the move that brought me here was inevitable after that. I moved in 2005 and worked in an environmental laboratory for almost another decade.
However, it wasn’t until 2018 that I discovered I could make paint pigments from the sandstone rocks that lived on our land. And everything changed with that discovery.
So that’s the story of me and rocks from my mid-20’s to early-60’s. Almost 40 years of history.
My current relationship with rocks
Now that I live in a land overflowing with rocks, I still love them! We have huge rocks and just being in their shadows is enough:
Fossil Hunting
I don’t sneak into gravel pits anymore. Every inch of ground here is almost like a gravel pit with a little dirt thrown on top. We have numerous types of fossils here. So far all we’ve found are tree or plant parts and older fossils of very early sea life. Here’s one of my favorites that earned an easel so it can stay on display:
Useful Rocks
I still use rocks in my gardens, and I use them in the ginseng nursery. They work very well for making retaining walls and pathways. Unfortunately my body can’t move all of the rocks I would move if it weren’t so difficult. Some of the very best looking rocks are in spots we can’t reach with the tractor, either. So those just stay where they’ve decided to call home and I admire them on location. I have to watch myself when it comes to me and rocks. Without some restraint, I’d have rock piles everywhere.
So I put them to use – like these that make up the steps in my garden.
Last but not least
I use rocks to make my paints. Since I discovered this was a possibility I am always on the lookout for the ones that’ll make good colors.
I suppose if I have to narrow down my favorite use for rocks, it would have to be using them for pigment sources. But the garden use is so close I’d have to call it a tie.
What is your relationship to rocks?
