On the Rocks of Patience

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Rock wreaths by me. Susan Dromey Heeter.


I muse joyfully on doing something for the very first time in my life.

I bought a gun.

No, silly, not that kind of gun – a better one – a glue gun.

Susan Dromey Heeter

Yes, I’ve been crafting and creating wreaths of stones, of rocks, of patience, of zen.

I write this column as I hear the waves crash on the beach at Fourth Cliff – a bit of land located in the south shore of Massachusetts. It’s windy, the beach is rocky, the sky is grey, I watch a boat go out into the waves of the North River and I get seasick just looking at it. Up and down, up and down.  

But those rocks of Humarock Beach have led themselves to Humawreaths – using the aforementioned glue gun, I have created several wreaths of healing, of peace.  I collected the rocks, walking over thousands, picking up ones I thought might make the best creation.

And working on these wreaths reminds me of the power of creation, of crafting, of making something tangible.  I love the feel of these pebbles, the stones – wondering how long they’ve been around, utilizing the glue to touch the roundness, placing the pieces as if putting together a puzzle.

If you are like me, you’ve spent far too much time “liking, sharing, commenting.”  And there is nothing wrong with keeping up to date in these interesting times, but, whew, it is good to take a break, to think of rocks that have slogged through centuries, listening to the waves crash – water that will roll with the tides no matter what pandemic hits or what election takes place.

Touching rocks is good for the soul – creating a wreath of stones is good for the psyche: working with round, with tactile, with comfort.  I’ll give a wreath to each of my sisters, I’ll share one with a friend.  I hang one on my door. 

All of the stones are prayers, the glue keeping them grounded is the spirit of love and kindness and hope.

I muse joyfully you, too, have something to create, a gun of your own that brings joy rather than harm, healing rather than violence, love rather than hate. 

My Humawreaths are my sanctuary these days.  I muse joyfully you’ll find yours, too.

Susan Dromey Heeter is a writer from Dover who recently let her hair go au natural white. Writing has been her passion since her English majoring days at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst.  Dromey Heeter has lived in The Netherlands, Alaska and currently basks in all things New England, including the frigid winters. An avid swimmer, Dromey Heeter’s great passion is to bring back body surfing as most children have no idea how to ride waves without ridiculous boogie boards.

The opinions expressed are those of the writer. InDepthNH.org t

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