In the unseasonably lovely weather of last Saturday my friend Z took me up to the Berkshires to look at hunks of marble. He needs some for a restoration project. We visited one professional stone guy where we saw lots of nice marbles & granites, and saw a slab cut by the giant eight foot saw running on a truss; and then another guy, Craig Moskowitz, the cattle king (prince? baron? regular guy?) of Sheffield Mass, who’s got hunks of marble all over his property; it’s basically a big knob of marble, the remnant of a once-significant quarry. We saw the marble that came out of Kimba Wood’s house and the blocks back in the woods that Zac Posen had wanted to buy, but only if the moss was properly preserved. But none of these quite matched the color and grain of the existing stone.
Then we went hiking, up a spectacular set of falls (Race Brook on the Mt. Everett Reservation, for anyone in that area) flowing mightily while slabs of ice still hung on the rock walls. And after that we nosed around, using Google Maps’ directions, satellite photo, and old-fashioned road map, trying to find the source of the original marble in South Dover, New York. The quarry’s flooded now, but there are some fat pieces lying around and with patience and South Carolina charm Z got leads on how maybe, just maybe, he could buy what he needs. It was wild to see these fridge-sized chunks just on the side of a little dead-end road (Quarry Road, a good hint) and to put Z’s chunk of sample on it and see the perfect match. “That’s our stone,” Z said.
(This post was delayed because I was hoping for some pictures from Z. Alas, none so far.)