My town is filled with low stone walls in classic New England fashion. Really looking at them today I noticed several very different kinds of walls, each expressing very different values.
The simplest are just a bunch of rocks jumbled together, not really a wall so much as a heap. Each rock remains independent, not firmly connected to the others.
At the other extreme there are stone walls entirely shaped by the liberal application of mortar. The rocks don’t really fit together, but at casual glance they present that false impression.
Finally there’s the truly crafted stone wall, where each stone is carefully selected to fit exactly where only it could belong. This is the joy I encountered today: a sense of rightness and order and belonging and strength and the value inherent in each uniquely shaped stone. All from a simple little wall.