When they were younger, Rick and Janice bought a lot on the edge of Durango that butted up against a mountain. Part of their lot was relatively flat, but part of it was a steep slope of naked earth. He had no intention of watching that slope erode, so he stabilized it with stone.
A lot of stone. Rick built channels for the mountain’s run-off to flow through, and stone bridges over them.
This is my favorite bridge of his,
and this one is also lovely. There is a complete system to channel run-off, with a detention pond at the bottom
and there is also a network of paths built of stone.
Most people use pebble paths, or flat slabs. Not Rick. His stone paths are built of honking big stones.
He likes to relate the size of the rocks in his path to the immediate environment. Here the rocks are modestly proportioned as they arc around a tree
and here, where you stop to smell the roses, they are ginormous.
When you first see this rock garden, it might look like a pile of rocks. Instead, the closer you look, the more you see. Rick is a rockhound, and has collected rocks his whole life from an area that spans many states.
Take this one small section of garden here: he has this monumental rock at the base,
but when you look closer you see that every single rock is something special.
Really: nearly every rock is something special.
Over the years, Rick built this garden with his back, his hands and a prybar. Now, we all know what a prybar looks like. Rick is a married man and I’d not be doing Janice any favors posting a photo of his back online, plus you can see one like it in any beefcake mag. But his hands are something else.
Rick’s hands have moved so many rocks for so many years that they are no longer supple, but they are very, very strong,
and very thick.
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