Zara wanted me to blog about her fossil hunting exploits. I was fine with the idea because it can be difficult to decide what to blog about, especially without the big pointy stick up the bottom that is the A to Z Challenge. But it's not all bad; I can lie back in a hammock and drink Margaritas, metaphorically speaking, while the rest of you wake up in the night in a cold sweat doing despicable things to your teddy bear, just because you have no idea what to write about for X.
Yesterday we drove up to Fossil Beach at York River State Park. The kids were initially disappointed because they had spent an hour-and-a-half in a car only to be faced by a half a mile hike and a tiny secluded beach on the river that was not full of ice cream stalls like Virginia Beach.
But the lure of finding fossils on Fossil Beach took over. There's a huge pile of them at the top of the wooden steps as well as a warning that you can't take them away, which must please countless parents who don't want to wake up next to a dirty great fossil, which almost leads me to that story about my room mate who got hideously drunk and ended up in bed with his grandmother - I digress.
Fossil beaches are few and far between but I like them because they awaken the collector in the young imagination. Who can forget the leaden grey skies and the crashing waves of Lyme Regis where we pulled fossils from the cliffs back in secondary school? Who can forget the day Johnnie Briggs stole my prize ammonite and the long and bitter wait for vengeance that came in the form of liberal coating of joke slime that clung as nicely to his backside as it did his classroom chair.
Zara liked collecting fossils anyway and had accumulated a hefty stash by the time the sun was falling low over the river. Jackson found one that promptly exploded revealing itself to be a lump of mud. The day was going splendidly until Zara trod on a sharp fossil, incurred a small cut on her foot, demanded a piggy back to the car and when I declined insisted on making a video to send to her mother about my cruel fossil hunting excursion.
Next week stay tuned for croc taunting in the Congo....
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On Blog PTSD
Now then. What the heck. It seems I had forgotten about my blog completely rather than just neglecting it this time. To return after so long...
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Now then. What the heck. It seems I had forgotten about my blog completely rather than just neglecting it this time. To return after so long...
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Sometimes in my dreams I have an odd vision of a rotund man being chased around by scantily clad girls at double speed. Policemen and vicars...
My daughter would LOVE that beach. She's a fossil nut. What a neat trip to make with your kids, even if it did end in injury.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, I'm still pondering what to write for X.
Ha well good luck Jean - I am sure you will be fine
DeleteAnd what I got out of this is that you aren't allowed to keep your finds? Yeah...um.....I would. lol Sorry about your daughter's foot though.
ReplyDeleteoh no worries JoJo - only a scratch
DeleteSounds like a great day, though I am intrigued about your mate ending up in bed with his Grandma!
ReplyDeleteLove the black and white shot.
lets say he was very drunk and had forgotten she was coming to stay and using his bed lol Juliette
DeleteI've never read of a fossil injury. There's a first for everything. I hope this blog post made up for the fact that you declined the piggyback ride.
ReplyDeleteWait, Virginia Beach is full of ice cream stalls. *Heading East quickly.*
Be well, David. I always enjoy your family stories.
xoRobyn
there's a first for everything Robyn - I do hope you are doing well cxoxo
DeleteHa, ha, love the arrogant attitude regarding your A to Z refusal! Admit it you miss all the drama! I can't believe I almost tried two subjects on two blogs - how many days till Z? Shoot me, shoot me now!
ReplyDeleteha you know it Yolanda ...
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ReplyDelete