When we walk down granite covered hill sides we talk about the Earth. When I look down at my boots, I notice a shard of pottery.
Clay, dust, water; shaped by skilled hands; fired and hardened.
But this was hundreds of years ago.
A place a fragment of history in the upturned palm of my student's hand.
This is how you can tell it is pottery and not just a rock, some bark from a tree.
She starts to see and pick out pieces from among dozens of rocks.
I smile.
This is how my father taught me to see the Earth: the things of Nature and then the things of Man.
There is a distinct difference. When trained, your eye will be able to find that thing that does and does not belong.
A kid from the other village came up to me today and said, "Hey! You're Kat! Your group said that you can see anything!" He puts a hand behind his back. "How many fingers am I holding up."
I looked him dead in the eye. "Three."
His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged. "Oh my gosh!"
Today I spotted six red tailed hawks, one barn owl who was fleeing an hawk, two ticks, three grasshoppers, one jack rabbit, and three vultures. One of my students said that I had amazing eyes. I grinned; I do have my father's eyes.
