lo-tech, hi-tech

It occured to me that there is an interesting pair of playgrounds here in La Conner. One, the obvious, is the official woodchip carpeted, fenced and secured junglegym kiddie park below townhall. The other, which I call the "sliding rock", hunkers off park street, at the foot of the capital "L", which is the birdseye shape of "the hill". I often ride by the sliding rock and admire it every time. I have yet to utilize it for more than an eyestop.
These two artifacts are a world apart. One is ages old and I like to think, has a long history of patient shouldering of playing children. I imagine that the shiny patina, polished by bellies and butts of giggling children, climbed on and over for hundreds of years, is looked upon with nostalgia by stoopback grandfathers, who yearn back to times of unlimited energy and frolic.
There he sits, wrinkled and furrowed, like an old-time coal miners' face, moss like ground-in coal dust growing in the cracks. Lichen clinging precariously on his sun-baked back. Waiting. Waiting. I imagine he smiles.