Quarry Contemplations, Galleries  #1 , #2,  #3,  #4
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The Native Americans who lived around these parts believed that the earth was sacred and alive – the Great Mother, from which all life came. The river alongside it was alive as well – the Great River. The abundant wildlife that sustained them were their brothers and sisters. Everything was alive in a spiritual sense. The Wangunk Indians, like all Native Americans of that time, considered everything a "thou" rather than an "it." They lived in reverential accord with nature.

From this natural/spiritual point of view, the Portland Quarries were part of the Great Mother, part of her very person, which she sacrificed for the well-being of her children who settled in these parts. In this instance, the stone was part of her body. Cut, shaped into blocks, carved with names and dates, chiseled into statues. The Great Mother gave herself willingly, as her children thrived and built houses, near and far.

Brother eagle often watched from on high, admiring this parental act of love, yet fearful that the Great Mother might sacrifice too much. When would it end? What would be left?
   Centuries passed and more and more stone was taken away. The excavation pit, with its scarred walls and dusty basin, gave the appearance of a great wound upon the land. Gouged and lifeless. A certain beauty remained, however, the proud, sad, majestic beauty of the Great Mother’s sacrifice.

The eagle finally expressed concern to the Great River, who was also worried. For the Great Mother was their mother as well, and for a much longer time. The river decided to act. One day, it took its flood waters and reached farther than ever before, hiding its normal shores and deluging what lowlands that it could. It was reaching out to touch the dark, grainy walls of the Great Mother. With much straining, it finally reached its goal, pouring a rush of cool water into the quarry basin, effectively halting all labors, protecting what was left of the Great Mother.
   The Mother could now relax and heal her wounds. 
   The eagle wondered about this as it circled overhead. How could such a massive wound be healed? Stone does not grow like flesh and blood!