Rock # 2, The Big Brother

They look so cute when they're sleeping don't they?

This is Rock # 2.  He woke up grumpy when we tried to nudge him out of his hole.  We made a little slope to help him out and got a really big strap, and decided to see just how big he was.  Turns out he was hiding some weight under there.  Also, I think, some claws that he used to dig into the ground and hang on.

It's hard to tell from the pictures, but this guy is bigger than Rock # 1.  We tried to move him - a brief video is below.

The stubborn little bugger stuck his nose in the dirt and refused to move.  I don't think my truck would have been up to the task anyway, seeing how hard it was just to tip his rear end out of the dirt.  This calls for heavy equipment.  And of course, I've decided he would look best in the front yard, which is at least 400 feet away.  For now, he's going to have to look good right where he is.  I still have to figure out how to flip Rock # 1.

Also, I have a novella to write before Nov. 1st.

Rock, Part 6 - Moving Day!

Finally, my project to dig a simple hole is nearly over!  After the Rock shrugged off our tow straps, stubbornly refusing to move, I spent a week pondering my options.  True nerd that I am, I ended up going with something I learned from the History channel.  It was a show about how Stonehenge may have been built - a bit more ambitous than my goal, but if anyone knew how to move heavy stones, it was those guys.  Basically, they rolled them atop a series of logs.  I didn't have logs, but it made me think that I might be able to slide the Rock along planks.  Like this:

I wedged the planks under the bottom, gave a pull with my tow rope and super-tough nylon straps, and . . .

It tipped over.  But it stayed wrapped in its nylon web, which is more than we'd been able to achieve to this point, so I went with the inelegant solution - drag it.

And it worked.  Man, those ancient Brits would have loved a few 4x4 trucks.  The Rock scraped a trail through the lawn, but the grass will recover.  And the Rock is unscathed - a far easier ride than the trip it took by glacier. 

There's only one problem - It's upside down.  Not that there's a "top" side, but I've grown fond of that scared, cracked surface, and I want to see it.  If I was able to tip it once, I should be able to tip it again, right?

That's my last remaining goal for the year, as far as my Rock is concerned.  Next spring I will have to dig out sod and landscape around it, making it feel at home while it gets acquainted with my other cool rock.  I moved that one from the pasture several years ago - this craziness has been going on for some time.

And there is still one more rock out there.  We spent some time working on it today, and I'll tell you about it tomorrow.  For now, I have good news and bad news:  Its bigger than we thought.  That's good!  I love big rocks!  And it's heavier.  That's bad, for obvious reasons. 

 But my insanity knows no limits!  Plus, I know a guy with a bulldozer.

Rock, Part 5 - The Long and Winding and Scratchy Road

The Rock is ready to move, but it has to wait until this weekend.  So in the meantime, I have a special treat for the nerds amongst you.  Yes, it's geology!  (wild cheering!)

With the dirt scrubbed off by rain, it turns out the Rock is showing its age, crisscrossed with wrinkles:

Those white lines are gouges, up to a quarter inch deep, left from the torturous journey inside the Wisconsonian glacier that dumped it in my yard.  Glaciers might be slow, but they don't fool around.  This one dug out the great lakes, then filled them with meltwater - that's some serious gouging.  Probably some hard jolts and extreme pressure, too, as evidenced by a huge crack down the middle.  It runs right through that "wound" in the center.  What a story my Rock could tell!  It was a long trip, too - the rocks that were left here when the glacier retreated were most likely carried down from the Upper Peninsula or Canada.

Hey, Canada - thanks for the great rocks!

You might have noticed Rock # 2 in the background.  I've done enough digging (come on, you knew I wouldn't leave it alone!) to get an idea of its size.  Rock # 1 measures 48 x 38, nose to tail (you figure it out.)  Rock # 2's exposed surface measures 47 x 42.  Uh-oh.  Another big guy!

Rock, Part 4 - Out!

TA-DA!

The Rock is out of the hole! That's as far as we got for today, because it turns out that getting it out and dragging it into the back yard are two different things.  We must reassess and re-equip.

This is how it happened:

My rock-moving neighbors brought tow straps and a small truck that thinks it's a big badass truck and loves to jump into harness and show off.  The process is in pictures below.  It took more than one tug, but we always made forward progress.  None of that Sisyphus shit I swore to avoid.

And all because I wanted some dirt.

Next is phase 2 - dragging it about 200 feet into the back yard.  We have a tentative plan.  But before we leave the south west corner of my property, let me take you back to when The Rock was still nestled in its hole, resting happily where the last glacier left it about 14,000 years ago.  I took a picture looking across the top of it, to a spot about twenty feet away.  Do you see what's poking out of the grass?

Yes, it's the barely exposed top of another large rock.  Perhaps The Rock's little sister.  Or . . . (cue the Jaws music) its Big Brother.  Will we ever find out which?  Oh, something tells me we will.

Rock, Part 3 - Don't Be A Sisyphus!

Are you up on your Greek mythology?  Sisyphus was doomed to spend eternity rolling a big rock uphill, only to have it roll back down, forcing him to start over.  I'm sure it's supposed to be an object lesson, or maybe a profound truth.  Lately, it gives me nightmares.

I have my Rock and it's ready to roll uphill.  Maybe.  I'm not sure the slope is gradual enough - I'll have to check with my neighbor who owns the heavy equipment and has some experience with Sisyphus-like endeavors.  I want to pull my Rock out ONE TIME, so I have to make sure I get it right.

This is how it looks now, with a section of lawn cut away, sloping sharply down to it.  The back of the rock is more exposed so we can get chains around it, but you can't see that.  My craziness stands on the brink of becoming reality!  Maybe!

 

Rock, Part 2 - Like An Egg

Something has changed since I first started digging out The Rock - mosquitos.  The manure-enriched weeds around My Precious harbor hoards of the hungry suckers, and digging requires a blood sacrifice.  I'm not that generous with my vital juices, so I haven't made much progress.  But I discovered one important thing - The Rock is not like an iceberg, with most of its mass still lurking below the surface.  It's round like an egg, and I've uncovered the curve that proves it:

The shovel isn't stuck in the dirt at all, that front section has all been cleared of dirt.  A flat rock would have been nice, but I'll take round over the monolith that could have been there.

Oh!  But on the other hand, if it had been a monolith, and it started emiting a high-pitched whine, I'd REALLY be onto something epic!  But then the government would get involved and you know what happened to Elliot and ET when the government stepped in, so I'm better off with my simple granite egg.  No one's taking my rock from me.

(Above paragraph for me and the sci-fi geeks only.)

Weather reports promise cooler days the rest of the week.  More digging ahead soon, I hope!

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.