We went on through more woods, in an easterly direction, against the dip, until at length, high on the far side of the ridge, we reached another beach, ten or fifteen million years older than the first one. In the comings and goings-transgressions, regressions-of the epicontinental sea, the strandline had paused here in late Silurian time. Anita said, “This was the barrier beach when the red beds of the Delaware Water Gap were paperlaminated lagoon muds behind barrier islands. Geology is predictable. If you find lagoon mud, you should find beach sand not far away.” On through the woods, she walked offshore to co-working space hilversum an exposure of dark, shallow-water limestone. “This is what I’ve come up here for,” she said. “This is as pure a limestone as you can get.” She remembered the outcrop from her mapping days, and now she wanted the conodonts. With her sledgehammer, she went at the rock. It was grudging, competent. She set off sparks. Working hard, she slowly filled two canvas bags, each having a capacity approaching one cubic foot. As she had done on hundreds of similar journeys, she would carry the bags into the post office of a small town somewhere and set them on the counter with a lithic clunk while the postmaster’s eyeballs moved forward over the tops of his reading glasses. There was a frank number, a printed label. “ANITA G. HARRIS, U.S.G.S. BRANCH OF PALEONTOLOGY AND STRATIGRAPHY, WASHINGTON, D.C. 20560, OFFICIAL BUSINE s s .” Seeing that, i8412 would develop a security clearance in the lower strata of his frown, and with solemnity co-working space rotterdam accept the rocks. It was a shelly, coastal limestone. There were cup corals in it, and a profusion of brachiopods that looked like filberts. “Farmers call these hazelnut rocks,” Anita said. A little farther along the outcrop, the limestone was full of small round segments of the stems of sea lilies-tall, graceful animals with petalled heads that grew like plants on stems.