We are in the process of cleansing and purging the compound of the psychic and physical clutter that has accumulated and enabled us to lose control. I’m pretty adept at losing control, having been on that path from birth, probably even before so actually, and I’ve learned to navigate that chaotic path with comedic flair. The guineas have been a fucking bane, either confining them to the chicken tractor too sturdy to work on any commonly found wheel, whether from hardware store or off of old lawn mowers at the landfill, or having them disrupt my happy little chicken flock that’s kicking five eggs a day now. Well, we finagled the chicken tractor over to where the sunflower garden this year was, which was planted on top of last year’s burnpile. I want to make key-shaped garden beds circulating around all that, and the guineas can peck it up in two-week increments now, laying the groundwork for sheet mulching and then hay and all that other Gaia’s Garden bullshit.
But to replace the sunflower garden as the gradual centerpiece of this garden upgrade... I have for a long time wanted to build a giant rock cluster of white quartz, and work little by little to accumulate that shit. All I’ve got is a little pile I snagged rock by rock from the hiking spot nearby, but I got to feeling guilty about snagging all those rocks from the hiking spot, so I quitted it. So now I keep the lookout for white quartz wherever I can find it, riding back roads near rivers and hoping to get a pick-up bed load, which is never a full visual load since everything I own is half-broken and hobbled by malfunction. There’s a cutback to Charlottesville that I did some work along recently, and there’s quartz everywhere around there, lining people’s ditches. I need to find a couple folks there that I know to let me get my fill because I know it’s got to be everywhere.
My ultimate goal is to build a pyramidesque structure of carefully stacked rocks, preferably a good twelve feet high, and hopefully nobody ever gets crushed under it. But if somebody does, I hope it’s me, and they make it my grave.
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