And then, the rains. When it rains hard, that hill, trampled as it has been, gets unnaturally slippery. I've landed on my hindquarters more times than I care to, coming down that slope.
"Failure to plan," or so they say, "is to plan to fail."
It's my intent to provide a means of getting up and down without staining my britches unduly.
It's time for some steps.
The next day, I added a ramp next door: for wheelbarrows and lawn mowers. I need to finish off the top of this one, and even out the stones, but I kind of like it.
I might plant some violets in the gaps between them.