Growing up in the fertile Salinas Valley of California having rocks in the soil was a foreign concept. If you needed to plant something it was easy. Get a shovel, dig the appropriate hole, insert seed/plant, move on to the next item of business. Imagine my surprise when I moved here where you can't dig deeper than three inches with out hitting some chunks of iron ore. After sixteen years on the ranch I've learned that planting takes much longer and maintaining the ranch requires superhuman strength to move some of the larger rocks.
The trees that surround the house also have grass, no, I'll call it like it is, weeds that grow between the trees. These weeds must be mowed otherwise they can pose a fire hazard. Every few years, we need to move the big rocks out from under the trees so that a tractor with a brush cutter can move among the trees without getting demolished by the rocks. We also have to, every so often, go through the hay pasture and collect rocks and fallen limbs so that the hay cutter doesn't get demolished by the rocks. It's hard, heavy work moving these rocks, they are not the smooth pretty rocks that you can skim across a lake. Nope, these are rocks are big. And heavy.
So big and heavy it requires mechanical help.
Hank and I can put the fifty to eighty pound rock into the front end loader without too much trouble. But when it comes to the rocks this size...
...the laws of physics are applied.
The pictures don't do the size of these rocks justice. They were extremely heavy and cumbersome to move. But, move them we did.
All is well until these things procreate. I swear I don't know where they come from, one year nothing the next year, there they are! On this day we moved a ton of rocks, yes a literal ton.