Locos por la Geología

Este post aparecerá traducido al castellano el próximo viernes.

Once more, I am taking a wonderful paragraph from that extraordinary book by Charlotte Gill, Eating dirt.

I planted trees in foothills and in high plateaus. Places seldom visited by tourists, by any people at all. I came to know the literal meaning of the word panorama– since clear-cuts made for unbroken views at once staggering beautiful and brazenly shorn. Some of these cut blocks were prehistoric upheaval sites, the remains of splendiferous tectonic clashes. Wafers of the earth’s crust piled up in the distance, land rumpling like ice floes in a jam. The montains sheared, upward bearing the petrified sediment of former seas. I bashed upon stones, and they came apart like clamshells, split into etchings of prehistoric marine worms. Snowflakes spiraled out of a blue sky. The creeks were a bright azure, cloud with rock flour.