Hooked by Rocks
How I went on vacation, saw a rock, and came home a hooker
One and Only Sunflower, 34" x 23", #8-cut wool on burlap. Designed by Deanne Fitzpatrick and hooked by Vicki Cameron, Oxford Station, Ontario, 2012.
My result from the geology hike: I hooked a rug. I got hooked on hooking. And a few years later, I met Deanne Fitzpatrick.
In 2011, my husband and I decided to celebrate our 40th anniversary by visiting 40 places in Canada we had never been before. Seemed like it might be more fun than a one-evening party with a fancy cake.
We made four separate trips, spanning April to September. Our second trip was our East Coast trip—we visited New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland.
We travel light, just two suitcases, and lots of empty space in the trunk, just in case I see a wool store and have a yen for a crochet project. Or, in the case of visiting the shores of the East Coast, I have an urge to take a few rocks home for the garden. The rule is that you can’t carry off the fossils, but you can pick up beach rocks, because the sea is going to take them all away in six hours and replace them with a new set.
Nova Scotia seems to abound with rocks and beaches, with a wandering geologist at every corner. Everywhere, the pebble beaches are flanked by looming dark cliffs from the Triassic or Jurassic era, eroded daily by the world’s highest high tides of the Bay of Fundy. These were not obvious fossils, where you can see an ancient shell imprinted in the rock. They were obscure, fleeting images of fossils, mere shadows, pointed out to us by a geologist who just happened to be visiting the beach with his wife.
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