Lower Rio Grande valley, New Mexico. Why is it that we know so little about how the vaunted gadgets and machines of our Age work? Perhaps that says something of our educational system; or maybe it is just inherently difficult to approach science and technology in layman's terms. Some people probably think technical subjects are uninteresting since there is nothing personal or emotional about them.
But there must be some explanation for stopping dead in my tracks when I saw this shadow on a shale rock on some BLM land recently.
My goodness, it looked identical to the fossilized leaves on a shale rock that belonged to an impressive rock-collection that my father "inherited" from a retired school teacher, back when I was a kid. One of my siblings turned out to be the real rockhound, but I was interested in them too.
At first the sheer size and color of the quartz crystals and geodes made the biggest impression. (Think of the razzle-dazzle that you find on the tables at Quartzsite AZ in the winter.) But the purely visual buzz wore off soon. I thought the fossils were more interesting and significant in the long term.
When I said "looked identical", above, it brings to mind the word 'reminiscent.' The dictionary says the Latin root is 'mens', the mind. Why are fossils interesting to people? Is it the connection between past and present or is it the challenge of trying to visualize a radical, but unbelievably slow, process of transformation?
But today I was only looking at an ephemeral shadow of waning November light; back then, as a kid, there was something about fossils and their transformation that was reminiscent of the old retired teacher, who once had a job similar to what my father had now -- I mean, then. Would my father really get old like that and retire? Would I?
The transformation of boy to old man is not as radical as that from living leaf to an intaglio on a fossil, but it's big enough. And it was the transformation to light and shadow, on today's hike, that formed the link.
This is drifting a bit from the starting point of this post. I'll get back to the theme next time.
But there must be some explanation for stopping dead in my tracks when I saw this shadow on a shale rock on some BLM land recently.
My goodness, it looked identical to the fossilized leaves on a shale rock that belonged to an impressive rock-collection that my father "inherited" from a retired school teacher, back when I was a kid. One of my siblings turned out to be the real rockhound, but I was interested in them too.
At first the sheer size and color of the quartz crystals and geodes made the biggest impression. (Think of the razzle-dazzle that you find on the tables at Quartzsite AZ in the winter.) But the purely visual buzz wore off soon. I thought the fossils were more interesting and significant in the long term.
When I said "looked identical", above, it brings to mind the word 'reminiscent.' The dictionary says the Latin root is 'mens', the mind. Why are fossils interesting to people? Is it the connection between past and present or is it the challenge of trying to visualize a radical, but unbelievably slow, process of transformation?
But today I was only looking at an ephemeral shadow of waning November light; back then, as a kid, there was something about fossils and their transformation that was reminiscent of the old retired teacher, who once had a job similar to what my father had now -- I mean, then. Would my father really get old like that and retire? Would I?
The transformation of boy to old man is not as radical as that from living leaf to an intaglio on a fossil, but it's big enough. And it was the transformation to light and shadow, on today's hike, that formed the link.
This is drifting a bit from the starting point of this post. I'll get back to the theme next time.
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