Fiorella likes living in the midst of an oak-elm-cedar jungle. She likes carving a path through unknown territory with her pruners or following a deer trail. She likes discovering grassy dells, wandering waterways, and evidence of campers from years past. But most of all, she likes her rocks. And they like her back. This morning, while she was gathering a load for her cart, they started talking to her.
"Pick me, Fiorella, pick me!" begged the smooth brown riverstone lying at her feet.
"No! Me!" the limestone intervened, trying to roll onto her path. "I'm more interesting because I have jagged edges!"
The wise old aggregate, safe in Fiorella's arms, intervened. "Calm down. She'll put both of you in her cart eventually. She values all of us, even the pebbles."
And he's right.
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