It's a good kind of sore

Yard work.  Oy.  It's nice to have a yard looking good but my muscles are feeling the two hours of holding that monster weed-eater!

Last night, we started a fire in our fire pit.  We bought the pit a year ago, maybe two, and it was the best seventy bucks we've ever spent.  Everytime we cut down trees, instead of paying to dump them at the compost place (not that this is a bad option; we're cheap folk), we burn everything. 

Before the night was over, we burned a sad, sickly lilac tree that Eric pulled out with this Landcruiser, most of a tree he cut down last week, and all of the giant rhody limbs that we cut back from a tree in the yard.  It's drizzling this morning so our plans of a repeat performance is questionable.

In the picture, you see Alexander clearing out dirt from the round that sits in the middle of the yard.  Normally, that area is nicely weeded and edged.  Not any more.  Once the peonies bloom, we are transplanting everything and leveling the round.  Eric also has grandeous ideas of another rock wall but I'm dragging my feet on that project. 

Even the cat wanted in on the yardwork business.

I wonder how I can put him to work.