Rock!

I'm writing, but well ahead of deadline and taking care of jobs around here.  Hence, a story about today's project.

I needed dirt to fill the depressed areas of lawn around our silver maples, and I had two options:  I could order a yard or two of topsoil, or I could dig up as much free black dirt as I needed from the bottom of my manure pile.  Lovely stuff.  Being cheap, I went with option two.

I scraped aside the weeds and loose wood shavings on top, then started digging.  The first shovelful hit rock about three inches below the surface - not an unusual occurrence around here.  I moved the shovel and tried again, looking for the edge of the rock so I could dig it out.  And hit rock again.  Moved the shovel again; still hit rock.  Now, you'd have to be a total rock nerd like me to understand how my rock-senses started tingling.  This was a big rock.  A specimen rock of the type people set in pretty landscaped areas so other people can drive by and admire their big honkin' rock.  I love those rocks.  I began digging in earnest.

After moving four trailer loads of dirt, I hadn't uncovered even half of this rock.  But it is MINE, and you may admire my rock in it's natural state:

Oh yeah, baby, that's what I call a rock!  Here's a more seductive close-up:

Yowzers!

I might never be able to move this sucker, but I'm not giving up.  I want this rock!  If my pickup truck can't move it, my neighbor has heavy equipment that can.  I have awhile to figure it out - the rock has been there since the glaciers melted, and isn't going anywhere.