Some Farmers
Some farmers only pick rock off of their fields after the spring thaw has pushed them up through the soil before the spring field work starts. Here on Stauffer Avenue we have picked rock on this third day of November in 40 degree temperatures.
Decades ago, my friends Doreen, Judy and I would go hunting for plants and rocks to do our flowerbeds. What’s not to like about attractive rocks adorning plants!
Last fall when we took down the huge square garden east off of the patio porch, the rocks in that area were removed for the tilling and grass seeding. Today, as a testament of my hope of lessening the gardens even more so, more rocks were removed from the hosta beds and piled. At some time, Dennis will use one of his nephew’s handy dandy skid loaders and take the pile off of our yard to a rock cemetery east of our property. One small step at a time to get my mind set in regard to the spring of 2020.
As I was dismantling flowerbeds it brought thoughts . . . Doreen passed away this last summer and Judy is totally blind. It seemed fitting that some of our yard be put to rest as well.
Towards the end, Dennis caved and put the battery in the Sears rider mower. One last pass on the leaves. Dennis felt it was worth it to hit them one more time as long as they were dry enough to be crushed and mulched.
All the while we were digging up and picking up rocks, there was a beef soup simmering on the kitchen range. Beef, beef broth, rice, carrots, corn, green beans, butter beans and celery smothered together for a hearty evening meal.
The farmer that dwells in both of us, keeps on finding things to button up before we can’t. Time is running out.