I looked at them for a long time. I just couldn’t get enough.
It was late in the day and we were alone on Signal Hill, our truck the only vehicle at the trailhead. As we hiked toward the hill, it looked initially as though we’d only be able to see them from afar, that we’d have to use our binoculars to get a sense of the texture, of the grit of symbol carved into stone. But the trail continued around, winding its way up the mound until we stood close enough to reach out our hands and run them across each line and curve. We didn’t touch them, of course, but the proximity was a siren call, the desire to lay my hands on the stone and feel the ancient symbols breathtaking in its intensity…