Rocks

On New Farm rocks are as plentiful as the Cape Cod gooseberries that we grew this year. There are large rocks that seem to erupt from the earth, small ones that I am endlessly tossing into the woods as I till the garden rows and there are the occasional perfectly flat rocks that I carry, roll, or pull behind the truck to add to the garden pathway. The mere mention of needing a hole dug around here is enough to make my back ache. The most ridiculous rock situation was when we had to purchase rocks to build a chimney. Surely, I thought, we could harvest what we needed right from our own back yard. But no, this chimney needed stone not rocks.

My understanding is that we live on land that thirteen thousand years ago was covered with ice a mile thick and as the glacier retreated the rocks were left behind. The mix that is our soil is called glacial till as I have been told on more than one occasion.

So it was that the perfect rock for the garden pathway was a mere 300 feet from where I wanted it to be. A crowbar, sheets of plywood, shovels and chains were some of the tools carried from the shed to help harvest this perfect rock. I love big ideas like this. Woman versus nature always gets me psyched. Of course, I did need help from my husband…so together we engineered the move. For a couple of hours we were into it and having fun with the mechanics of levers, fulcrums and other miscellaneous physics of Atlas type feats. But finally, after I had a little too aggressively dragged the rock from the woods with the truck and failed to stop before it hit the fence post we conceded that perhaps the neighbor’s tractor might finish the move with less collateral damage. As it turned out, this was the same day the neighbors needed a hole dug.

I was dubious about their assurances that the chosen spot was perfect for an easy dig. “I’ve been studying the contour of the land” was how my neighbor began. He was thinking about sand dunes and how wind will blow sand off the top and come to settle and the base of the dune. Surely a sand dune is not an appropriate analogy to our rocky woods… however, that logic was applied to a small rise in the woods and it was determined that at its base away from the trees lied the perfect digging spot. Sounded like an old wives tale to me. But this hole was special and I was more than happy to help and offer my support. You see, this was the final resting spot for their family pet. This Border Collie mix was the perfect neighborhood dog. She was friendly and loved to come around to keep an eye on the chickens for me. As we all gathered in the woods atop the rise of the hill to dig the hole I couldn’t help but think that this is going to be one long project. But, a half a beer into it and the digging was easy, the reddish colored soil was piling up and only a few small rocks were found. Either my neighbor really knew what he was talking about or he was a very lucky man.

Now every time I walk through the woods to visit my neighbors I pass the marker and smile, thinking she probably has the only spot around here without any rocks.
I don’t know what it is about rocks but they are an integral part of my life. I love collecting them, am challenged by their size, find amazement in their beauty, and amusement in how they present themselves to me. Is it possible to anthropomorphize a rock?