Drill, ye tarriers, drill

Or, wrassling big ******* rocks for fun and profit.

For our upcoming hosuewarming, since we're mostly combining it with Guy Fawkes', cymrullewes really wants to have a bonfire.  (November 5 is the traditional British fireworks occasion -- "Remember, remember, the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot!"  It's historically been observed with fireworks, bonfires, and a "Guy" -- an effigy of Guido Fawkes, burned upon the bonfire.)  Only problem with this is, we couldn't really find any good place around the yard for a bonfire.  Can't really do it on the lawn, definitely can't do it on the asphalt driveway or the deck.

However, the back yard does have this nice friendly boulder (a ton or two of granite) sitting in the middle of it.

This is why the Silly Goose and I, aided and abetted somewhat in rock selection by the Dread Pirate Bignum, just went into the woods with the wheelbarrow and hauled back half a dozen or so smaller boulders ("smaller" meaning the smallest was probably forty pounds or so, the biggest probably 150 to 200 pounds), which we arranged at the base of the big friendly boulder to form a stone hearth.

Now we have a place for our bonfire.

(Downside:  My left foot hurts, and my knees feel like rubber.  But what else is new?)