Provenance Cone Rubbing Rocks
Close your eyes. Imagine lush, grassy plains dotted with playas rolling to distant blue mountains west and south. Other than a few crusty black lava flows, the only interruption is a reddish cone-shaped mountain, its rocky sides coated with yellow-green lichen. It’s cold, even though it’s early summer, the skies covered in heavy clouds scudding eastward over a range of jagged peaks just visible on the horizon. A bugle sounds, a trumpeting that starts as a low rumble and shudders through your chest before it rises and echoes. It originates from a herd of huge lumpish-brown animals—you mistake them for …