Here's a close up image of the petrified log that was donated to Bosque Santa Lucia. What reminded me of this artifact was an article that GingerV sent me these days about the Petrified Forest of Arizona. In younger days I remember spending time there with my grandfather, Steven Winn. He was a dedicated rock hound from the State of Idaho. For many years he and my grandmother, Edith Winn, would escape the cold winters of Idaho by hooking up their camper to his old vintage pickup and take off for Arizona and New Mexico. When I was studying at Berea College in Kentucky, I would hitchhike across the country during Christmas vacation to meet them in the southwest. I remember spending many a day with my grandfather on the back roads of the deserts and mountains looking for petrified wood and semiprecious stones. Just seeing this piece of petrified wood from the Amazon brings back many memories!
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Petrified Amazon log II
Here's a close up image of the petrified log that was donated to Bosque Santa Lucia. What reminded me of this artifact was an article that GingerV sent me these days about the Petrified Forest of Arizona. In younger days I remember spending time there with my grandfather, Steven Winn. He was a dedicated rock hound from the State of Idaho. For many years he and my grandmother, Edith Winn, would escape the cold winters of Idaho by hooking up their camper to his old vintage pickup and take off for Arizona and New Mexico. When I was studying at Berea College in Kentucky, I would hitchhike across the country during Christmas vacation to meet them in the southwest. I remember spending many a day with my grandfather on the back roads of the deserts and mountains looking for petrified wood and semiprecious stones. Just seeing this piece of petrified wood from the Amazon brings back many memories!
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I got a big kick out of this because I was raised in Arizona - form '51 until '64. We had field trips to Sedona/Montezuma's Castle and the painted desert. On Sundays, when my mother would threw the seven of us out of house, we used to walk to the river, poking sticks in rattler holes and chasing cows in the fields. I used to have to crawl on my hansd and knees across the cattle guards. One Sunday we walked from Cottonwood to Clarksdale - don't know who was leading, but we walked through the back country, got there without loosing a sibling and called dad to come get us in his old chevy. Childhood was great.
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