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.  

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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.