You may be wondering from my last post, what's the big deal about rocks? I lived in Florida for many years, and I went through a kind of "rock withdrawal" while there. The closest thing to a real rock was a styrofoam cliff at Disney World. I never realized how much I missed the rocks I knew from my childhood until I moved back to the Northeast some years back. There's nothing like a beautiful stone wall winding it's way across a New England farm field . . . speaking of which, this is a great book:
So I'm somewhat protective of my rocks, thank you very much. Carry on!