Biscuits and gravy

All of a sudden, there are painted rocks along my path.

This has been going on for a while, I guess, but I never saw them in my neighborhood. Now, however, someone has more time on their hands, or a desire to reach out, or has lost their mind in isolation — whatever the reason — and little painted stones are appearing everywhere.

When I saw the first one, I didn’t think much of it. I think it was a Star Trek logo (I won’t swear to that). It was black and gold and looked kind of space age. Then I saw a rainbow. Then it registered. “Oh. Someone is leaving painted rocks!”

Then I saw a watermelon and several flowers and a few inspirational sayings. When I got home, I Googled it. Yup. People were painting rocks. It’s a thing.

One website reminded rock painters, “This activity is about gifting and not expecting to find a rock or get recognition when yours is found.”

I like that. You paint a rock, you never know what it will do, how many people will see it, where it will end up. Once it’s out of your hands, it has a life of its own.

Right now, there is someone out there who painted a small, rectangular rock with flowers in two shades of blue and a bright green center. It’s a very nice rock. I should know. I put it in my pocket, took it home, and I’m looking at it (and writing about it) right now. I’m guessing the person who painted it did not expect there would be a newspaper column written about it, and that’s exactly why I like the idea so much.

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