More Crushed Stones

#3 Crushed Stone, my favorite!

My Man, Clyde, on the Cat

Welcome Rain

I don't know what it is, my fetish for crushed stones, driving to the pit, shoveling them into my four containers, bringing them back to our house, filling in low spots on the driveway and parking space.  I just know all of it will be pushed aside, sink, or disappear after Shane get's at it with his snow plow this winter.  But for now, it fills my morning, giving direction, and a sense of having done something discernible, like the lawn after it's cut, the drive way after the stones have covered the grass or low spots.

Well, it's just started to rain, as you can see from the picture, the lake gray, sky rain filled, still a couple of fisherman out.  So, I have come in, gotten my Turkish tea brewing, and am enjoying sitting inside, listening to the rain, finishing my blog, and getting back to my fifth Daniel Woodrell book, THE DEATH OF SWEET MISTER.