When out in nature (back yards count) and I approach a rock larger than the size of my head embedded in the ground, I am usually inclined to turn the rock over and inspect the scene beneath. Sometimes there is nothing but mushed sun-starved grass and moist dirt formed to the undercarriage of the stone. Other times a delight of scattering centipedes and ants taking their larvae out for a walk in the dark air can be seen.
Putting the stone back in place can go both ways. If I put the stone back I am feeling particularly respectful and donate 3 seconds of my life to restoring the balance of the zone I just disturbed, a zone that may not have seen light in years.
Other times I feel unnaturally powerful and leave the stone upended, forcing all the bugs to move their entire compound of tunnels six inches away. The earth and stone then have to begin forming a new relationship with one-another, settling into a new groove.
I wonder what I will find when I turn over my rock?
You just have to take a risk and find out. Remember, no guts; no glory!
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