April 4th & 5th, 2012. When the slaughter of most of my backyard "yard rocks" took place. The wounded of the first day - recovered from the battlefield - are the only survivors. Currently, they are too traumatized to tell their stories. As I tend to their wounds, they will reveal more of the story.
I regret that I was not there to protect them. I thought I had moved them to a safe locality, but the backhoe constructing the new septic tank drainage line found them and the geologic carnage ensued.
And I won't even be able to talk about the encircling rock wall and the wildflower garden, for a while.
Gone, but not forgotten.
[To be continued...]