I pick up stones.  I always have and probably always will.

          I can remember going home with pockets full of pebbles as a kid and drawing faces or animals on them with felt-tip pens.  I have a piece of slate in my coat pocket which I picked up in Llanberis, I’ve rubbed it almost smooth now as I “worry” it on a day-to-day basis.  I used to carry around a small fossil pebble before this , but I rubbed the snail-like fossil away.  I have a coppery coloured stone I picked up at the very top of Snowdon and a chalky pink and white piece of alabaster I found on the beach near to where I grew up.  Walking across a pebble beach is an adventure to me, there are so many stones to choose from as I carefully select just one to slip into my pocket.

          The pebble in the photo was picked up on a recent visit to Weymouth.  I was amused by the foot shape and couldn’t resist pressing it into the wet sand and then moving it forwards a little to create footprints.

           More from before: various visits to “Weymouth“.

6 thoughts on “Stones

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