Confetti Park

A very long time ago, my great-grandmother Minnie Carter Boston shared for posterity some of her memories of life growing up in rural Arkansas in the late 1800s, in the piney woods and rolling hills. Her daughter-in-law (and my grandmother) Gypsy Damaris Petty Boston transcribed the memories while they lived in Shreveport, Louisiana. Arkansas is part of an eroded lamproite volcanic pipe, which has caused diamonds to rise to the surface. I don’t understand all the geological processes, but there really are diamonds to be found on the ground in Arkansas. There is even a mining field called Crater of Diamonds that is open to the public, where you can go with your shovel, bucket and screen kit and hunt for diamonds under the hot, hot sun. You keep what you find! The story goes that when Minnie was growing up, they regularly encountered the rough uncut stones in their yard, and never knew that they were playing with precious gemstones. So many people in the region were poor farmers and loggers—oh, the irony! How d