Twenty-three Stones

There are twenty-three stones at the Viewpoint. I counted them this morning. This includes the big rock at the head of the trail going down to the ravine. It also includes a mostly submerged rock nearby and a large, almost completely submerged stone near the south entrance and another stone close to the latter which lies flat on the ground and is partially submerged. This doesn't include the three concrete bollards that stand at the entrances: one at the north entrance and two at the south entrance. (There are two possibilities for entry at the south end, so two bollards were required to keep anyone from entering the park in a car, I suppose.) Another kind of stone I'm not including in this tally of twenty-three is type of stone used to support the lamp fixtures. There are three of these stones, if I remember correctly. They're basically blocks of concrete. Their size differs from lamp to lamp. As I counted, I found myself wondering what the difference really is between a rock and a stone. There are many things I might call either "rock" or "stone," but it seems to me that if something is actually made of cement, or concrete, it shouldn't be called a rock. I think of a "rock" as something formed by the forces of nature. We often speak of "headstones" in reference to the markers in cemeteries. Many of these are made of marble, granite or other kinds of rock, but if I'm not mistaken, some are made of cement, or concrete, and still we call them "stones." Many of the "stones" at the Viewpoint are, in fact, pieces of cement or concrete. Maybe later I'll give more details about their composition. I could check my photos, so that I don't have to go to the Viewpoint a second time today, but it's hard to tell much about a stone's composition from a photo, unless the photographer has made a point of focusing on the stone. I do have lots of close-up photographs of plants and animals that live in the park, but none of rocks, as I recall.

Next time I go to the Viewpoint I'll count the hawthorns that line the side of the park adjacent to the arterial. These are some of the last hawthorns on the hill. One was recently lost.

The Full Moon

Moon over Interlaken

Copyright © 1987 Paul D. Natkin, All Rights Reserved

No two full moons are alike. Each is different from the next. One can always expect something new from the moon. Tonight's was pale orangish yellow when it rose--a reminder that fall will come pretty soon. And it felt like fall this morning. It was cool, and the sky was overcast. Someone I know who comes from Poland told me he was thinking about going mushroom-hunting--in the mountains, I think he said.

It was hard to find a vantage point from which I could see the moon over the Viewpoint. From the street, the moon's position was over the dark ravine. If I wanted to view the moon framed by a tree overhead, I had to walk a few feet below the edge, at a point where the slope isn't too steep, and then I needed to stand at exactly one point--a slightly precarious one. If I moved even an inch or so to the right or left, the moon moved too far to be perfectly framed. I didn't take a photo; I didn't have my camera. I'll save it as a memory. It was the Sentinel that did the framing.

Later, once the moon had risen up above the two cemeteries, a trail of thin clouds wafted across its surface. When this happens, I sometimes watch for a very long time, observing the slow changes.

I've noticed that the park below has been closed for many weeks. I don't know why. It's been in the back of my head, but I guess I've been thinking about it a lot on some level.

I forgot to mention that I saw a bat flitting around on my way to the Viewpoint.