Ongoing reporting from our Destruction Project.
But first, a Walk Down Memory Lane:
This picture was taken in May of 1995 and shows our youngest son, David, almost 5 years old, sitting on one of the big rocks in the Formal Garden. Dave was not happy the day I took this picture from across the garden. Something had made him very sad (probably the fact that we were doing then what we're doing now, non-stop gardening) and he was perched on top the rock holding a peony flower and crying a little. I was hiding in a cedar tree with a telephoto lens which is what made the picture kinda blurry.
So, when it came time to move this very same rock the other day, we decided we would try to get the now almost 21 year old Dave back out to the garden for an updated photo in the same position.
As you can see, David is still not very happy (because sixteen years later, we are STILL doing non-stop gardening) but at least he humored his Maternal Unit long enough to pose for this picture. Thank you, David, you may go now.
Speedy, isn't he?
Ok, Joel, you may move the rock now.
From Friday afternoon through Sunday (yes, even on Mother's Day) we moved rocks almost non-stop during the daylight hours. Joel was able to give us a hand on Friday afternoon for a few hours which is what makes the rocks move a whole lot faster. They respect Joel.
|Rock loaded, let's go.|
|Up and Over the Wall|
We tried to lower the stones over the tufa wall without disturbing them, but luckily, tufa is light and relatively easy to restack because we knocked a lot of them down. We could have just yanked the big rocks out of the Formal Garden and put them on a pile, but since half the work of moving the rocks is getting them rigged in chains and on the wrecker, we decided to place them in their new homes right away. So far, we've done a half-baked job of it, every one we've placed needs additional work, but at least they're where we want them to be. We can come back and tweak them later. (Or just throw a lot of mulch down and wait for the hostas to come up and cover 'em.) To make a rock look natural, you're supposed to bury a goodly portion of it in the ground. Yeah, we'll get to that. Soon. I promise.
Ok, back to work.
On Saturday, Carl and I were on our own with the rock moving. (Joel has a Life outside of his idiotic parent's garden, believe it or not!) We took stock of what to do next. The rocks were now getting bigger and farther away from us. Since we weren't happy about dragging these huge rocks which in turn, were making huge ruts in the flower bed (plus, I'm not sure what has and hasn't emerged yet plant-wise) this was when we got out our next tool in rock moving:
Though it doesn't show here very well, the lawn looked like a horrible accident had occurred before we were done, with red paint smeared all over the grass.
The area by our willow tree in the driveway is rather forlorn with just the tufa rock walls and a few scruffy hostas that aren't up yet. Good place for a big rock. But first, we have to get it there.
Just this one rock took us over three hours to deal with. We only managed to move five rocks total on Saturday. The sun was going down, but we thought we might as well get one more rock started before giving up for the night. Did I mention we have a bus trip with a group of Master Gardeners coming to tour on June 4th? Ha ha ha ha ha...yes, we do.........oh, boy, work FASTER! And yes, my posts are ridiculously long, but we put in ridiculously long days around here, thirteen hours in the garden on Saturday.
Remember I said we give away Free Upper Body Workouts to anyone who wants one? When we were going back for the last rock of the evening on Saturday night, Richard and Emily stopped by for a visit:
On Sunday, Joel was home for a few hours and was willing to help us again. (Thank you, Joel!!)
I cooked a nice Mother's Day meal and had Mom over. She thinks we are Silly to do all this work but she calmed down when I told her it was so we could downsize the gardens. She's often chided me on the future and how I will keep this place up as I grow older. "What will you do when you're my age?" she asks me constantly, but that's usually when she's helping me weed.
I have to stifle a guffaw before I say, "Well, if I'm lucky enough to see 90 years old, I'll be doing the same thing you're doing. Weeding at 90."
May we all be so lucky.