On an overnight trip to Santa Catalina Island off the coast of California, I spotted a group of cairns along the road. It was near a pet cemetery, so I assume that the stacked stones were marking the loss of a beloved pet. Similar to a headstone but without using words, the stones were saying that this life was important; it mattered.

The place where we live now has drought-resistant landscaping, so there are lots of colored stones. I’ve made a practice of building cairns as a way of reminding myself that this day is important, not because I necessarily accomplished everything on my to-do list but because I won’t see another day quite like this one again. With three dogs running around, the cairns might not make it through the entire day, but the effort of attempting to balance stone upon stone helps me acknowledge the beautiful precarity of a single day.

On hiking trails, cairns serve the purpose of marking the path, and in my small yard, they serve a similar purpose. The path is gratitude, beauty, and attention, and I mark it by stacking stones.