C. uncovered an old cement whosit while digging garden beds. It's about 3 feet across and held a big wooden post in place in the old lawn in front of the school. There are bits of old rotten wood still in the center. Power pole? Telephone? Playground equipment? Huge tetherball post maybe. Anyway, we looked it over, then filled in the hole. While C. loves a challenge and comes from rock-moving stock, she isn't nuts. Plants will just have to deal with it.
Also in the garden, we've run out of large rocks for terracing, and have gone to homemade gabions. The fencing is recycled stuff from Craig's List, and the rocks are home grown. Use what you've got, right?
We (C., actually) got corn and pole beans in the ground this weekend, and are getting close to ready to move the billions and billions of tomatoes from the cold frame into the dirt. And we stopped at a plant-sale sign on our road, bought some brussel-sprout plants (fleadgh) and met a very cool woman who told us tales of Elk. She lives just up the hill from the place the county dumps roadkill deer, which sounds pretty grim except that eagles, coyotes and cougar gather there to feed in the fall.
We're trying to decide between a used garden tractor and a few Shetland sheep, as the knapweed will be going to seed soon. We've got to get the two fields mowed somehow, or we'll have more of this miserable toxic plant. Sheep, bless their wooly little heads, actually eat the stuff.
And below, check out the tiny visitor to the gym. There are green tree frogs on the south side of the building and brown ones to the north, but this is the first one found inside. Maybe it's the leaky roof that attracted him. Or the high ceiling (19 feet) that draws the eye upward and gives a feeling of spaciousness.