190/365 Wall

This white rock.

I have a small retaining wall that runs between my walkway stoop and my neighbor's gangway. It backs up an equally narrow strip of dirt that my grandmother planted one Easter Monday, I guess in 1999. Came home from my inlaws and there she was, planting in my front yard. I miss that, by the way.

I built the wall, about 18 inches high at its tallest, out of field stone. We got a pallet of it at a stone supply place in town. I didn't use it all in the front, and it shows up in all sorts of projects and bed borders and neighbors' yards. I built it with field stone and didn't mortar it. It's a dry stack stone wall. Except I cheated, considering the size and location along my sidewalk and my inherent laziness to repair things--I didn't want to constantly have to rebuild it and stack stones again. So they're held together invisibly with liquid nail.

But that white rock. What was I thinking? It catches my eye every time I walk past it. Hey, I'm out of place! You picked me out of the yard and not from the field stone and you were being frugal in some kind of weird misplaced way and now I'm here! And I'm white! And I'm wrong!

Nobody else, of course, cares.