I carried some straps and a steel cable ratchet down there and I got it up out of the river and on to the bank. It’s strapped to the little sled we moved the first piece of quartz with. I’m not confident it’ll be nearly as easy to move as the last one: the terrain’s too rough, too wet, too steep, too wooded and woody and rooty. It won’t be as easy, but I intend to do it by myself.
It has been a busy past few days. What with the storm and playing host and preparing for the baby shower and work and freelance, and cleaning. I had a bit of time today, much of the preparations are done, the necessities must wait until tomorrow.
I spent my new free time moving a rock.
I’ve mentioned it before, it’s a gorgeous piece of quartz I uncovered by the brook side past the big rock near the mudding road.
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I spent my new free time moving a rock.
I’ve mentioned it before, it’s a gorgeous piece of quartz I uncovered by the brook side past the big rock near the mudding road.
There is something very calming about the labor of moving a stone this large. It cannot be rushed, it cannot be shoved, it moves as it pleases and by inches. It’s not even particularly exhausting, it’s too heavy to heave, it’s all about slow preparation and ratcheting movements.
Stones a fair bit lighter than this near boulder, that’s where the exhaustion comes in. I’ve been getting stronger in my hauling them, and more narrow in my taste. Used to be I’d get any nice river rock and take it to the tree or the fire bit, now I only have eyes for quartz. If it’s smaller than my fist it has got to be very white or very clear to make its way back up the hill, but if it’s the size of my head? Then it’s coming home.
I’ve managed to get every piece of quartz I can carry with my body that’s bigger than two fists held together. These storms keep revealing new pieces and I keep carrying them up. There’s almost enough to surround the tree.
Stones a fair bit lighter than this near boulder, that’s where the exhaustion comes in. I’ve been getting stronger in my hauling them, and more narrow in my taste. Used to be I’d get any nice river rock and take it to the tree or the fire bit, now I only have eyes for quartz. If it’s smaller than my fist it has got to be very white or very clear to make its way back up the hill, but if it’s the size of my head? Then it’s coming home.
I’ve managed to get every piece of quartz I can carry with my body that’s bigger than two fists held together. These storms keep revealing new pieces and I keep carrying them up. There’s almost enough to surround the tree.