How to Move Rocks

As close as I'm going to get to a picture of Boy#4 unloading rocks

The nicest people in the world read this blog. Really! So for all of you lovely readers whom I left needlessly concerned, my leg is FINE. I think my artist's rendering abilities may have been just a little more graphic than the situation warranted. (What? Me, exaggerate?)

Anyway, the Calf-Eating Bruise had cleared enough by the weekend that Husband could no longer hear my whines of "But it's hooootttttt! And I have a bruuuuuuuise!" and we spent Saturday morning working in the heat-stricken wasteland that is our backyard. We are philosophically opposed to pouring water onto lawns ("Hey! Life is tough, Bermuda, and you might as well learn that now while it's only 111 degrees,") and the grass is showing the effects of the current heat wave. It is so opposite-of-beautiful that I can't bring myself to post the "before" pictures I took; just imagine tufts of crunchy brown grass scattered over bare dirt with Our Dog Pepper panting at the edge.

We're adding stone edging to the fully-shaded edges, and with Boy muscle available, there was no reason for me to do anything but order people around. This is not as easy as I make it seem, but I know the secret of success when it comes to recruiting help on a hot summer morning:

Something to crow about

Bribery. Yummy, cinnamony bribery.

And since you can't have an "after" picture without a "before" picture, you'll just have to imagine how nice the new stonework in the yard looks, with its curving edges and Our Dog Pepper still looking puzzled by all the activity.

Beautiful, isn't it?