I read this book in a strangely apt setting. I was in a place that meant a lot to me, a family cottage on Lake Michigan that had just been sold to the highest bidder (long story, can't get into it—too much emotional baggage). I was visiting for a last time, on the winter holiday. We were there to do some of the final cleaning before the property would change hands. While there, I took my children down to the lakeshore several times to look for rocks and other treasures. We skipped flat stones, dragged heavy driftwood, and scavenged heart-shaped rocks for their grandmother. The ultimate find on that particular beach is a Petoskey stone: this is a fossilized coral from 250 million years ago. Its hexagonal pattern is enchanting to spot in the shallows and exhilarating to polish and display on a shelf or table. I have some that...

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