Rollrock is my farm in Central Oregon. The name comes from a poem I have loved all my life, Inversnaid, by Gerard Manley Hopkins. (The poem is short, so click on the title and read it.) "Rollrock" is more user-friendly than "Inversnaid," and the farm really does have a lot of rocks. Most of them were picked and stacked by previous owners, but dig a little, say, to plant a crop, and there are yet more rocks.
Insversnaid is a tribute to a wild stream as experienced by a hiker walking up toward its source. It ends with a tribute to nature: "Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet." My Rollrock is in a desert, and is irrigated by snow melt from the Central Cascades, tumbling down Tumalo Creek.