Rock-Picking

 Rock-picking, when I was a kid, is a LOT different than the rock-picking Ramsey does.  Back in the day, someone drove a farm hand with a bucket, driving very slowly down a field while the others (this is where I fit in) walked along, spotting rocks.  Then, we had to load said [horrifically heavy] rocks into the farm hand scoop.  When the farm hand bucket was full, the rocks would be dumped into rock piles.  (Thinking of this now, I wish we had those rock piles - it'd make great rip rap for the lake shore!)   This would be an all-day scenario.  Good times.  ;-)

Ramsey was coerced by Eric into picking rocks from our yard so avoid lawn mower debacles and ruined blades.  He would be financially reimbursed by how any bucketfuls he would turn in.  The goal was at least one full bucket.

I spied on him at first (quite curious to see if he was actually completing the task).  He was!  I was a little shocked.  I figured he'd have thrown the bucket and started playing with sticks.

After a while, he proudly came in with a half of a bucket of river rock.   Eric asked if he was "ready for inspection".  He nodded.

He didn't pass inspection with flying colors, but he did pretty well.

He picked up more that he had found.

After a short while later, once he started rolling around on the ground and playing with the rocks, I knew the actual rock-picking was done for!  ha!   He continued to play with the rocks, then moved onto sticks.