July 2: Rain vapor

When I was driving to the farm yesterday evening, I came to a place just across the home county line where there had obviously been a rain shower recently. Tires splashing, steam rising from the road. That's something I kind of like about summer rainstorms: when the rain hits the road, the asphalt surface has absorbed so much heat from the sun that the water turns right to vapor and rolls off the road in waves of mist. If it keeps raining, of course the road eventually cools down, but if it's a quick storm, you're just left with the mist.



It's also a good illustration, I think, of why it can be several degrees hotter in cities than it is in the countryside of the same region: more paved surfaces and brick and concrete buildings to absorb the sun's heat. In the country, at least forested areas like around my hometown, there are lots of broad leaves shading the ground and respirating their cellulosic hearts out. Campaigns in cities to create more green space, including on rooftops, make me happy.

July 3: Rocks

We had a really lovely morning of rain, from before I woke up until after lunch. The plants needed it, and I needed it too, I think. A soft summer rain is so restful.

By early evening, things had dried up enough for me to don rubber boots and take the dogs out for a walk. It was a ramble full of surprises. I've written about things revealed by rain before; the revelations today were especially exciting.

First, when we were barely out of the backyard, I spotted a white stone that was obviously hand-chipped, with thin, sharp edges and notches in each side at the bottom. Its top half is missing, but before being broken it was probably almost 4 inches long. That's too big and heavy for an arrowhead, so I'm thinking it's a spear point. It might never have been used. The sides look unbalanced, so it could have been worked on and then rejected. Is it a thousand years old? Four hundred? So many human generations, and now I'm holding it in my hand.



My second find was peeking out of the mud in the side of the dirt road, a white shiny surface that at first looked like glass. But it turned out to be one of the best pieces of quartz I've ever found, a double-pointed crystal about three and a half inches wide and four inches long, medium clarity with some intriguing black and iron-red impurities running through it. It feels good to hold in my hand, and I can look at it for a long time, turning it in the sun to reveal the patterns on the surface of the crystal's sides.



And then there was a stone. Just a rock, but when rocks are wet you can often see their colors and patterns better. This rock was exactly half obsidian black and half tan, and the line dividing them is perfectly straight. How would a rock like this have formed? What geologic processes and events were at work? I don't know, but it's exciting to think about.



Rocks are so good for the imagination, I tell you.