Posts Tagged ‘boulders’
Little Touches
Today is our last day to prepare for the guests we are expecting for World Labyrinth Day tomorrow. Cyndie and I put in some extra hours yesterday, primping the nooks and crannies around the rocks lining the circuitous pathway to the center of our labyrinth.
When we got to the boulders in the middle, I wanted to figure out a way to make it look more intentional and less like a hodgepodge of incidental boulders.
What better way than stacking a few balanced rocks on top?
There is no way those rounded stones will stay balanced against the frequent pressure of visiting birds, but I hope to have them reset before people show up to walk tomorrow.
There are still so many plants that haven’t sprouted leaves yet; it looks like they might be dead compared to the ones that have already greened up. Not that I blame them for being slow. Cyndie has been covering her sensitive flowering plants the last few nights to protect them from frost.
I’ve been keeping an eye out for evidence of trillium making an appearance. We have several spots where it has shown up organically, and one area where Cyndie and I have planted some we brought back from her family’s lake home. Yesterday, I found that the ones we transplanted are already about to flower.
We are still a loooong way from a virtual carpet of trillium flowers like happens up in the woods at the lake, but even the few spots where we have it showing up at home bring us joy every time we see it.
Just like our sprucing up the grounds and area around the labyrinth, it’s the little touches, like a trillium blossom in the woods, that set a tone that defines the specialness of our Wintervale paradise.
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Some Firsts
I searched my photo archives for an image I wanted to include in yesterday’s post, but didn’t find it until it was too late. It was a shot of the boulders in the center of the labyrinth after Cyndie’s cousins and brothers helped me place a rock on top back in the fall of 2017.
I was excited about having that smaller rock resting on the two boulders and ending up the tallest. It didn’t last in that position for very long. At one point, I ended up wrestling it sideways all by myself, to avoid having it tip over and roll off of both of them.
This is what it looks like now. It’s not nearly as interesting looking. I’ve added the little egg-shaped rock as an accent, but it never lasts very long there. I think birds land on it, then push off when they fly away, knocking it to the ground.
That’s the first picture of the center since the maple tree has been removed.
Yesterday morning, Cyndie and I experienced a first when she discovered she had a black eye for no known reason when she woke up. I asked her if she feels safe at home. She wakes up all night long at any sound or activity, so we have ruled out a possible stray elbow while we were sleeping.
I suggested she do a little research with Dr. Google. Of course, the list of possible causes included cancer, brain diseases, or impending death. Undaunted, she kept reading. Toward the bottom, it mentioned allergies, of which Cyndie has many. She recalled blowing her nose after working in the dusty barn and raking the winter accumulation of debris out of the labyrinth, and said the tissue was blackened. I pointed out that my weather app had alerted me to extremely high pollen levels, as well.
Those triggers, along with aging blood vessels, combine to logically explain how she might have developed a black eye overnight.
“That never happened before…”
In a first-time experiment of using pallets to frame my pile of composting manure, I peeled them off to turn the pile and add air.
I broke the composting manure apart and shoveled it back between the pallets for a second round of aerobic decomposition. This setup definitely allows me to work with larger amounts of manure in one pile. It’s inspired me to want to rig up a second set of pallets so I can start a fresh batch while this one continues to break down.
Other firsts of the season accomplished yesterday include hooking up garden hoses, pulling the leaf net off the landscape pond, and mowing grass with the push mower in four different spots where it has already gotten surprisingly tall.
It would be a more inspiring indication of our transition from winter to true spring if we hadn’t lived through so many April or even May unexpected snowstorms in our lifetimes. It’s awkward, trying to decide when to hang all our snow shovels in storage for the year.
Too soon feels like it would jinx things. It wouldn’t be a first.
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Tree Removed
The dead maple tree is gone from the center of the labyrinth. My new Silky SUGOI pruning saw arrived on Monday afternoon, and I put it to work immediately, trimming tree branches. In the case of the dead maple, I cut off the top branches and then rocked the trunk back and forth to snap the roots, allowing me to pull it right out of the ground.
It dramatically changes the visual of the labyrinth. Without that feature in the center ring, the focus returns to the boulders, but they have shifted significantly over the years and lack the artistic flair they originally featured.
Our whole experience with creating and maintaining this labyrinth has vividly revealed how fluid the “solid ground” actually is. I wish there were a time-lapse recording of the last 13 years to show how much all the rocks move throughout the freezing and thawing, and the soaking and drying.
April 2013
At least the smaller rocks defining the pathway can be lifted out of the mud and reset. Those boulders are pretty much doomed to sink and tilt with little hope of being reoriented. I used the loader bucket on the big tractor to stand them up when we started creating the labyrinth and didn’t have the rings of rocks in place yet.
If I wanted to use the big tractor again, we’d need to move enough pathway rocks to make a lane for the tractor to reach the center. We would also need to wait until the ground was frozen enough to keep the wheels from sinking into the soft turf. The reason I was able to pull the trunk of the maple tree is that it is so squishy down there right now.
I’m undecided about immediately replacing it with another tree. Looking at the sinking/leaning boulders, the thought occurred to me that I could just keep adding other big rocks and turn it into more of a pile. The center circle isn’t very big. The rocks take up most of the space anyway. It would be nice if they were more conducive to being climbed on in order to sit on them.
I need to think about it. Preferably on a warm sunny day, while I am right there in the center circle, gazing at them.
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Tipping Point
Back in September, I boasted of the big victory of using visiting family with strong backs to finally accomplish a dream of placing a third rock upon the two large boulders at the center of our labyrinth.
It was a great moment.
Then, along came winter, and the heaving of earth as the ground frost increased in depth.
The other day, while exploring the woods with Delilah, we came out on the backside of the labyrinth and I spotted the little rock on top was tipping over.
Mother Nature has a way of proving we do not have as much control over things as we’d like to think.
I’m undecided about trying to push it back upright now, or waiting to see how the boulders move as the season progresses.
Somehow, it feels like a fitting metaphor for a lot of things that are tipping or are out of my control.
I am inclined to observe what happens without jumping right in to do battle against the elements.
It’s another adventure, only in slow motion.
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Boulders Rocking
While we were standing around the center of labyrinth Wednesday night, I glanced at the big boulders and immediately sensed something seemed different. One of them seems to be settling into an increased lean away from the other. It comes as no surprise, since the soil is so incredibly saturated around here. 
It has me wondering what it will be like this winter when the ground freezes. Will the excess water in the surface soil create more in the way of heaving? Could those boulders get pushed over on their sides?
Maybe when the tree finally gets established, we can get rid of the boulders altogether and let the maple take their place.
What do I mean by we ? By the time that happens, I probably won’t be around anymore and those decisions will likely be someone else’s to make.
For this moment, I am going to work on tending to the boulders to the best of my ability, while also finding a way to adjust my attitude so that I will accept the unexpected results that nature serves up.
I’m sure hoping that nature will serve up a healthy and vibrant transplanted tree. If that happens, I will find it much less concerning if/when the boulders shift into a new and different orientation from the one with which we started.
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Relative Something 