We spent last weekend at our friends' beach house just outside Manitowoc, WI. It sits on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan and the beach is wild feeling and peppered with rocks in all sorts of sizes, textures and colors.
I actually went down to the beach with the intention of just going for a long solo walk. But the rocks called to me. While the boys scrambled up and down the bluff, digging away at it with croquet mallets and getting covered in thick, brown mud, I spent several hours down on the beach collecting and playing with rocks. It was incredibly satisfying: time slipped away, I forgot about the chilly wind and I even found myself laughing out loud a few times.
Of course not all the rocks stayed down there on the beach.
These came home to Chicago. Just in case I need to play a little bit more.
If you too are a lover of rocks, I highly recommend this book. And it's true, everybody does need a rock. Or rocks.