My father was a geologist.
And with every trip and every car ride and every journey to a new state or mountain range or coastline, it was inevitable that he would excitedly exclaim and point and swerve the car to the edge of the road to show us an outcropping.
Or layer of shale.
Or a metamorphic or an igneous or a sedimentary rock.
And with great protests and eye rolls and shared glances, we would all stop what we were doing and begrudgingly listen to the rock lecture.
With an extra helping of grudgingly.Continue reading