Finally Jackson took me to the quarry. After the drive and all the build up we arrive in middle of nowhere, Leander with my camera. Before we climb out of the truck he warns,
"Just be careful this is basically just open untended land that they put the stones on." I asked, "Are we talking spiders or snakes?" "Oh snakes, rattlesnakes."
Shockingly, I still managed to get out of the truck enough times to leave completely sunburned and with lots of stones for the Festiva party. Also, full disclosure, we were also talking spiders.
Hand picking (and hand lifting) stones is a process of appreciation and will. Will we be able to engineer a way to get this off the stone pile with just our combined 285 lbs? Will he be able to cut or sand it to suit his uses?
The hunt becomes passionate when muscles are involved. Watching Jackson select which disregarded pieces deserved the sweat, I gained a new appreciation for our finished stone products.
It was hot, and we both left exhausted and with more freckles than we arrived with, but there is something great about this graveyard of stone. After a while you start petting the good ones, feeling the soft execution of their bends, and cracked pieces start looking intentional. I started thinking every surface in my home and yard could use a little more stone, and Jackson has to remind me to be selective (even though he allows me to keep the creepy pink plastic cow skull I found in the weeds.)