Get liberal, Liberals

There’s a tall, mature maple tree about 100 metres off to one side and behind the house here at Hope Ness.

Underneath it is a large area of rough ground covered with wild grass and underbrush, and a thin layer of soil and moss. Only by venturing in, pushing aside the many small branches, would you discover the old rock pile. We started digging there for rocks last week to make a border for the new flower garden beside the house and discovered buried treasure.

I wonder if it takes a certain inclination of mind, and even spirit, to see what interesting things rocks are, each one in its own way. Did the Greigs and the Butcharts, the pioneer homestead families that cleared this land many years ago, stop as we did to marvel at the different patterns and textures?  Continue reading