Though the nameplate on his university office door listed him as “Senior Vulcanologist,” Dad was always a freshman-year rockhound at heart. The summers of my boyhood were spent hunting old quarries and badlands formations with him, where he taught me how to recognize outcroppings of
I’ve been housekeeping for the old boy for 20 years, ever since his wife ran off with a lawnmower salesman. He’s always been very pleased with my work – and so he should be too, with the hours I put in cleaning up after him.
One night, in June 1908, it came, hurtling to Earth, trailing fire through the heavens. With a noise like the screaming of angels it crashed through the atmosphere. It exploded just before it hit the ground, with an incandescent flash so bright that it turned
My best friend is a rock. There are people who scoff at that. People who tell me “that is just a rock”. To those people I say “fuck you”. To those people I say “My friend is not ‘just’ a rock. My friend is strong,
“We used to come here when I was a girl,” says Gran, “of course, it was different then. There was a tea shop, not a gift shop. And you could climb up on the battlements over there.” I look up, past a chain hung across
We called our civilization great because we hewed rock from the earth, plying and shaping it with metal tools into monuments to our vast arrogance. Thousands of workers died performing these labors, but we cared not; their blood christened our sacred enterprise. And when it