Sunday, May 06, 2012

Continued adventures!

Such as they are.

Lately I've had a major case of Blog Choke. People tell me my blog is fun and they like it, and the more I hear it, the more I feel like I should be doing Important Writing. So I try to come up with earth-shattering topics, and stall at the six-hours-of-research phase. Glub.

A couple weeks ago, I went through and read random blog posts I've done, and, as YOU know, I blog about all kinds of stuff, from Important to nothing to WTF?? It seemed to work. My brain is random enough, I guess.

Right.

The bloody damned rocks. Remember the goddamn rocks?
The goat fucking, shitball rocks?

They're mostly still there. Fuckers.

I thought I'd be able to pick up the rocks around the edges (kinda did that), then use the landscaping fabric underneath to haul it all out in a clump. BUT NO. THE DAMNED FABRIC IS ROTTEN. I get up enough of an edge to get hold of, lift, and THE FUCKER TEARS OFF.

AAAARGH.

So we're down to raking them into shovels and lifting them out that way. Which will only take THE REST OF THE FUCKING SUMMER.

Fuck it, we're gonna rip out another of the beds that DOESN'T contain rocks, so we can actually plant some damned broccoli before September.

At any rate, in the midst of my mutterings and rantings, I was thinking about wheelbarrows and other assorted bits of equipment I could use to haul the damned rocks, after I got them out of the flower bed. It all came down to memories of my mother gardening. Instead of a wheelbarrow, she used my wagon. It was one of those nice, sturdy sixties-built wagons, of heavy steel. She hauled peat moss, plants, weeds, you name it, all over the yard with that thing. As often as not, when I'd climb in it to play, there'd be dirt in there from Mom hauling stuff around.

I mentioned this to the husbeast, and we wound up at the farm supply store soon after.

Yes, we're so far out in the boonies we have a farm supply.
It reminds me of where I grew up; I can speak this language. Other than some mild culture shock, it's quite fun.

After some poking around, the husbeast and I found a little wagon-type dealie in the back of the store. Bearings on the wheels, squishy air-filled tires, a plastic waterproof bin with a really slick dump feature. You can even take the handle off and hitch it to a tractor - which we already have.
Mom would approve.

To christen it, I need to haul the Goober around in it.

13 comments:

Sandra M. Siebert said...

Actually, I plant broccoli at the first of September or late August for a fall harvest. It works in Kansas, anyway.

Jeanne said...

Way Cool! I want one! I have to clean out my chicken coop this week and this would be so freaking handy, much more so than the wheelbarrow. Congrats on a useful purchase

electrictree said...

Maybe you should do a raised bed and bury those motherfucking rocks...

Galad said...

I'm sure the Goob will be happy to help christen the new wagon. Glad you found something that works (and looks very sturdy)

I like the variety of your blog. The random mix of family life and intellectual curiosity is fun (with great yarn and knitting thrown in for good measure).

Donna Lee said...

We have a large circle of landscape rocks that used to surround the pool that we had for years. They're brown and not easy to identify and make mowing the yard an adventure! Slowly but surely, they're coming out. It's a huge chore, I sympathize with you. And I'm jealous of the kids' science books! They sound so cool. We are a Why/Why not/Where/When/How nosy kind of family, too.

Anonymous said...

In Wisconsin fields of 'old' there is usually a big pile of rocks that were moved just far enough from where ever they were unearth (remember this was a glacier a few thousand years ago) by the farmer to the middle of the field and left. One of our northern friends identified the rock type as 'leverite' as in 'leave it right' there. Maybe the raised bed is not a bad idea that electrictree mentioned. Helen

Barbara said...

At least they're not lava rocks, those stick to each other, the earth, and skin. Moving them is like moving cinders (which they are, I guess) like Dad did from our old coal furnace. Remember clinkers, guys? I had used too many bags of red lava rocks around the beds across the front of a ranch house and then decided I didn't like them after all. And the garbage guys won't take them, the turds.

Your new barrow/wagon looks awesome. Want one!

Deb said...

Could you use a shop vac and sweep them up? It's a long shot, but maybe worth trying.

The noise would be funny.

If that doesn't work, I vote for the raised bed idea. Just think of the wonderful drainage from all those rocks...

Emily said...

I love love love your blog. I don't care what you write about. Or rather, I enjoy absolutely anything you come up with.

Andrea Gatley said...

I can relate to the rocks. Our entire front yard was rocks when we moved in.

We just rented a skid steer and took them out the easy way. Took about six loads in the pickup.

I hate rocks.

Jen Anderson said...

I think moving all those rocks is a job for the Goob. Just tell her that she can use them for a project if she moves them. She'd probably move them one at a time and get it done in an afternoon.

If you could only think of a project to use them for. Do you have a lake or pond nearby that she could throw them in? The ripples are fun and bye bye rocks!

Amy Lane said...

That looks like FUN! Wouldn't every kid want that?

Leonie said...

I have a wheelbarrow trailer like that,the kids love it because they can pull each other around in it. I bought it because I can't stand the way wheelbarrows tip over with the one wheel. I see many happy rides for Goober in that wagon :-)