Rocks We Love.

"Always enough rocks, not always enough pockets for rocks."

My family loves rocks. My Grandma Lois and mom used to go on field trips to learn about the geology of California and to “look for rocks.” Grandma had an eagle’s eye—always scanning the ground for something special and often finding it, like a small pink Chert arrowhead she found in the garden—a beautiful rock that someone, many years ago, had crafted into their own masterpiece. I have boxes filled with rocks that were my mom’s and Grandma’s many with handwritten notes saying things like, “Mama’s rock she found at Lassen” . That would be my Great Grandmother my Grandma was referring to, confirming four generations of rock lovers who picked up rocks and put them in their pockets.

A note from Grandma Lois about … yes … rocks.

When my Grandma married Milton Kinsey, she discovered he loved rocks too. They spent many vacations traveling across the West, digging for treasures. Montana for sapphires, Oregon for garnets, Idaho for opals, Arkansas for diamonds, and California for smoky quartz. These were places they returned to year after year. As a result, it wasn’t their pockets overflowing with rocks, it was their basement, where we would find boxes brimming with beautiful stones: picture jasper, moss agate, geodes, petrified wood—and many I still can’t identify.

Rough Saphires, Garnets and such dug up by Grandma Lois and Grandpa Milt.

You see, Grandpa Milton was an amateur faceter. He transformed rough, unremarkable stones into sparkling gems. I remember, as a child, watching him late in the evenings, working away at his lapidary wheel. That was his happy place. When he finished faceting a stone, he would set it in a simple mounting and give it to a friend or family member. I’m lucky to have several of his masterpieces.

Faceted stones and cabochons made by Grandpa Milton Kinesy.

Most of what I know about rocks, I learned from my grandfather and the occasional geology course. When I walked with Grandpa Milton, I would stop to ask about the rocks I spotted with my own eagle’s eye. I learned about jasper, agate, basalt, slate, quartz, pyrite, hematite and many other stones common to the Sierra foothills. Now, whenever I’m out in nature, I can’t help myself. Whether I’m near a river, in a field, walking a canyon, or just in my own backyard—I stop to look for rocks, often stuffing my pockets with them.

A few years after I got married, my husband John was working on a building project in urban San Jose, California. His team was digging a large hole to build a helipad for a hospital. I remember him telling me how easy the excavation was, and how different the soil was compared to New York. “Easy digging—no granite, just sand and clay,” he’d say.

One day during the dig, he spotted—using his own eagle’s eye—a large rock sticking out of the soft overburden. Knowing how much I love rocks, he picked it up and brought it home to me. I love that rock, but I love my husband even more—because he knows how much joy these stones bring me. That big piece of jasper was the perfect gift. (Interesting note—My husband’s last name is Rothrock! Go figure.)

The beautiful Jasper rock gifted by John Rothrock to me.

Now, much like Grandpa Milton, my love of rocks has led me to my own happy place—my design studio—where I spend time playing with all types of rocks, like beaded semi-precious stones. I string them onto wire and create my own sparkly little masterpieces.

Thank you Grandma, mom and Grandpa. Your legacy lives on.

“Grandpa, what kind of rock is that?”
    “Well, that’s a leaverite.”
“Leaverite?”
    “Yeah—leave her right there.”