Over the past few years, there has been a bench alongside one of our walking trails here that has often had a small painted rock sitting on it.
I’ve always wondered who the generous artist was. Who would paint a rock and leave it for others to enjoy?
In my mind’s eye, it was a middle aged to older woman who was a member of our local artist’s guild. She would be of petite stature with grey hair, glasses, and a friendly smile.
The other day, as I was on that same path, there was a tall, heavily built, younger fellow walking ahead of me.
I saw him stop at a bench, take something out of his pocket, and spend a few moments. He was far enough ahead that I didn’t know if he was tying a shoelace or what he was doing there.
When I finally got to the bench, the young man was long gone. My feature photo shows what I found on the bench he had stopped at.
Now, did this fellow paint and leave the rock? Is he the one who has been doing this all along? Did he maybe take the rock on a previous stroll and was now returning it for someone else to enjoy? Did he just spy the treasure and stop to take a photo of it, as I had done?
That little painted duck provided much more than a gift of beauty along a hiking trail.
It afforded me the opportunity to speculate and examine my sometimes stereotypical assessments.
Radically Retired 