| Description: | I have a trilobite, and now scientists tell me they know how it died. I remember finding my trilo, as I hunkered down one day between two enormous hunks of granite. Adult sense tells me rain had worked into a crack on an even larger boulder. Centuries of water nudged and pried, until the molecules surrendered, and split into two rocks that waited just for me, a smallish 1950s girl-child on the edge of Canadas Laurentian Shield. |
