There is something about a beach filled with rocks that draws me downward. I can spend hours walking, looking, stopping to pick up a rock every now and then. Should I take this smooth one home? Or the one with the specks of green? How about that odd shaped rock that seems to be battered and broken? I don’t think often of the source of these rocks and stones. Perhaps they are newly formed. Or maybe they have been a part of the beach for years, washing out to the sea and then back again. What is it about a rock that draws me downward?
Olivine – another new to me word from the August prompts list