by cheri block
A long time ago, someone lugged a heavy rock up a steep hillside and put it in its place.
Others helped in the endeavor. Who these people were and why they built their walls is a mystery.
Soon these walls would criss-cross the pastoral rolling hills that flank one side of the San Francisco Bay. From Berkeley in the north to San Jose in the south, these rock lines cause pause among those who notice.
Everyday, I walk up my road, see these walls, and think about the people who built them.
They are not the Great Wall of China or Stonehenge in England. They are not Roman ruins in Ephesus or pyramids in Egypt.
They are a simple line of dot-rocks that remind us to produce something.
So, go do it.