Migratory Pebbles

I have a story for you, it's a true story.  Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

I posted a picture a few Sundays ago of some patterned pebbles.  These are the ones I find whilst out and about with my two small scavengers.  They (the scavengers that is) will often delightfully run full pelt into my side with little hands full of potential treasures.  From many, only a select few make it to my pocket.

And then, if time allows, and the two small scavengers are occupied with creating forts that will 'stop' the advancing tide, I get out my trusty fibre pen and begin to draw....



In the comments section of my Sunday post, Pamela Bates of The Mercantile Muse was asking me about them - and so I thought - I'll send her one so she can see it, in person (so to speak).  I already had Pam's address from a package she sent me earlier in the year - so I was able to send my little pebble off as a secret surprise that would arrive at its destination without fanfare or expectation (because, honestly, there are few things finer than a surprise package arriving in your postbox).

I was a little worried for him as he had no official migratory papers or identification.  Cocooned in a parcel of bubble wrap and drawing paper he made the perilous trip across the English Channel and into deepest, darkest South London (or 'Sahh-rf Lundin' as the locals here like to say).  From there, he rested for a while in the bowels of Royal Mail.  Sorted and sifted and shaken and shoved until he finally ended up on an airplane bound west.  Almost weightless, he forgot his heavy composition of igneous particles and flew on and on to the land of the free and the home of the brave!


And here he is, sitting on Pam's window ledge in amongst other treasured things and a wishbone.  She has written a little about it on her blog today too!

Oh, the internet is a most wonderful thing but I do believe the postal system is possibly even more amazing!