Susan
A little boy came for a walk through my garden today, and he asked me where I got the beautiful painted rock at the entrance. I explained that, years ago, I saw it in the dirt on my daily dog-walk through Dominican, and it was there for several days each day when I returned. I lusted for it, until finally picking it up and slipping it in my pocket. I placed it at the entrance to my fairy garden, and where it has remained. Months after finding it, I was touched to read an article in the IJ about Cameron and her health struggles, and her inspirational rock-painting and planting throughout the neighborhood. The tinge of catholic-school-taught-guilt (thou shall not steal) slipped away; it was meant to be taken by me, after all.
I tell the story often, because everyone who enters my garden seems to want to know where I got the beautiful painted rock sitting at the entrance. What a lovely legacy.
