Rocks

We spent the morning looking at some fuckin' cool rocks. Some might call them mountains and hills, but I like "Rocks." Painted Hills, it's called, not to be confused w/ Painted Rocks or Pictured Rocks, although I never can remember which is in MI.

We stared at all the colors as Martin did his best to explain the Geology, the History behind it. But it's simple really, I am hopeless. Where he sees minerals and weathering and time, changes and beauty within, I see a rough, pretty stone. There is too much I don't know and so my brain shuts off, as usual. And this is fine, because I am completely content to sit and ponder, to take in my surroundings, to smile at his passion, and take every moments fresh breath. And that is what we do all day, enjoy company, rocks, and beauty through random dirt roads that lead to nowhere, or somewhere, or everywhere.