I hiked in a new place and it was amazing! I knew it would be. I told a friend I was going to find treasure.
The quest began as I wandered through a beautiful prairie that led to a Native American burial ground. There are approximately 27 mounds from the Late Woodland Period, a time before recorded history, some 1,000-1,500 years ago. Urged through the sacred land by bird songs and wind, my present-day concerns fell away. I felt grounded and connected to Nature.
The far side of the burial area fell steeply toward the river. A rope was tied between trees for stability while descending the slippery path. Genius. It reminded me of tow ropes on sledding hills from my childhood. Kid me liked the rope, and kid me LOVED hopscotching along the log slices peeking above the muddy parts of the trail.
It was May Day so kid me thought about my friend, Susie Donovan, who died nine years ago. She was my first friend. First friends, like first loves, are unforgettable. Susie and I used to fill paper cones with flowers and put them on neighbor’s doors. We lived in Minnesota, so “fill” meant a dandelion or two and MAYBE a violet for those extra special friends. Flowers on May 1st were scarce in Minnesota. We always had fun anyway. On this day, the flowers in the woods could have stuffed baskets for the whole neighborhood.
I talked to Susie about life and how much things have changed. I took pictures of the interrelated extremes, decay and spring flowers. I meandered to a small creek and squatted in the wet, crunchy gravel, poking around mindlessly in the cold clear water. I was kind of looking for arrowheads. I am always looking for arrowheads but never focus enough to really look.
When my legs grew tired of squatting, I gazed up at the bank that would contain this stream when it grew to be a river. I spied an ocher-colored stone that looked like it had black drawing on it. I jumped across the water and touched the exposed part of the stone. It was smooth. I started shaking with excitement. I dug my fingers into the surrounding dirt and pulled it out. I held it in my hands. My heart was pounding as I jumped back over the creek to rinse it off gently. It looked and felt like clay that had been covered with many layers of slip, and the layers were chipping off. The surface was like onion skin. Maybe it was a petrified seedpod!
My mind was racing. I texted a friend for advice. I knew that taking anything out of the park was wrong, but I was a courier. I wanted to get it to the park safely. I got contact information, felt okay about taking it for safekeeping, and carefully carried the treasure to my car.
It turned out to be a Concretion which is often mistaken for a fossil. Concretions form in sediment and, over time, turn to rock. Often, they form around an item that decays, leaving them hollow. Sometimes there IS a fossil inside. Geodes are concretions.
Is there a fossil inside? I’ll take it to the park office and I hope we don’t find out. I never break geodes. It’s nearly a mantra: when something is whole, it contains mystery; once laid open, the mystery and magic are gone.
Did I find treasure? You bet! I treasured putting aside my cares, connecting with the fun-loving, playful, curious version of myself. It was a treasure to savor memories of Susie and the fleeting idea that I found the world’s best 1,500-year-old petrified seedpod. I had a lot of fun. An adventure is always a treasure, as is the reminder that mystery is enchanting. I’ll take mystery every time.
Also, I’m pretty sure if one expects to find treasure, that’s exactly what happens.