Springtime = clean up time.
The fields were a bit too wet for field work, so it was time to clean up around the property. Fence rows have been growing yearly and were intruding into the fields and needed to be removed.
The fence row that was just east of our house was the first to go. Once that was removed farming that field would be much easier. Two fields came together with the removal of the brush and trees. While this is a good thing for the farming aspect, it did remove a key element for Son #1’s hunting excursions. That fence row hid some nice bucks. Son #1 over the years has hunkered down in that brush for many an hour just waiting for that big one to saunter by. But, we’re here to farm not hunt.
“Since the machinery was here” thought Farmer, “why not get rid of the rock pile that has been accumulating at the west edge of our lawn?”
This rock pile has been in my married life since day one. It’s been a gnarly pile of rocks, roots, trees, bushes, and weeds. Bucket loads of rocks picked from the fields have been dumped there. Any yard improvement ended with the remains there. The countless critters that have inhabited have been varied and plentiful.
Farmer started the cleanup project while I was at work and when I came home it was three fourths gone. And yes, it looks 100% better. But, I was overcome by sadness. YES! I am pathetic.
I stood there in the afternoon sun while the brush was burning and oh, the memories came over me like chocolate dripping over a scoop of ice-cream, sweet and sticky.
All four sons have played, hunted and were injured in that treasure pile. Snakes were scrambled after as they slithered in and out of the rocks. Rabbits were dug out of their homes. Woodchucks breathed their last breath as they were trying to run back to the safety of the pile.
The rock pile is where I carted years’ worth of weeds while tending my flower beds. After the storms came through all the downed branches were gathered and thrown on top.
Puppies have romped through it and came out covered in brambles and burs.
Rabbits played hide and seek in the evenings until the dogs wanted to play too, but they wouldn’t follow the rules so the rabbits would go home.
A broken nose resulted with Son #1 using a hoe to move a rock the size of a small car. Son #2 was below the hoe, in dead aim position of the hoe, when the hoe slipped and moved his nose instead of the rock.
Slivers and pickers were common items removed after time in the pile.
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| Wigglie #1 setting up a rabbit trap. |
Even the wigglies had their fun times. Building forts, trapping rabbits, chasing dogs, and digging for snakes while losing a shovel or saw were common place.
My newest wigglie will not have the pleasure of the rock pile. That makes me sad.
Yes, I’m a sentimental sap.
I think I need therapy.
