Flagstone - Seriously? Buy Interlock Brick.

There are many opinions on how to build a flagstone patio, but mostly "they" say to make sure you have a solid, level base. We want to raise the back of the house up about a foot and a half, so a thick base of stone won't be a problem.

We start to clear the area and it's fairly dry when we start using the backhoe, so there is only some flattened grass and no ruts. We bring the gran A gravel around from the driveway to the site in the bucket of the backhoe and dump it into the patio area and spread it by hand. We fill up the area slowly and watch the level rise. The first tiere is approximately thirty by twenty feet, about six hundred square feet.

We drop in tons and tons of rock. Literally. Brent is making the trips back and forth from the quarry to the farm while Dad and I move the rock. Dad operates the backhoe and I work the rake. You should see the gun show I'll have this the summer! Funny how lifing stupid heavy rock and raking stone makes you hurt, but grow muscle.

Once we get the initial level of stone up to where we want it Dad and I run into town to rent a plate tamper. I clearly remember sitting in the passanger seat with my window down, enjoying the breeze on my face and the moment to sit. My clothes are filthy and full of stone dust. There's dried blood on my hands and I think the tops of my ears are sunburned, but I feel so relaxed and alive. Muscles aching, hands raw and a silly smile on my face as we drove down Bowen road in my Dad's pick up truck could not have created a more perfect moment.

A plate tamper is the absolute way to go for making the base solid. It's about five o'clock when we get back with the tamper and Dad starts to tamp. It only takes fifteen minutes to tamp the area and we're ready to lay down our two inches of screenings.

We use three pieces of conduit and fill the area and roll the condiut out and fill in the spaces. We use a long two by six and slide it along the pipe to level. We tamp, re-evaluate, add more screenings and then tamp again. We're nearly ready to actually lay the flagstone.

We'd like to edge the patio with blast rock, but it's eight o'clock as we sit down, exhausted to a hot meal. Poor Dad looks exhausted. We are all liberally covered in stone dust, dirt and dried blood. It seems we can't do anything without bleeding just a little bit. After dinner Dad gets up and limps to the door bidding us good night and he'll be back in the morning.

Brent and I look at each other and without saying a word we put our work boots back on and set up some lights. We're going to move that blast rock into place.

The rock is still loaded in the dump trailer, but it's easier to hand bomb it into the front end loader and bring it over to the patio. Brent and I chat quietly as we shift huge pieces of rock and try not to get crushed or cut. It does happen and the quite oaths do not go unnoticed.

At eleven fifteen we collapse into a pair of lawn chairs sitting in the grass facing the new patio. The flagstone sits in two giant crates like stoic rock monsters just waiting for their opportunity to bite. The bright light bounces of the grey of rock and stone giving the patio the illusion of grandness.

Brent and I hold bleeding hands as we share a bottle of wine. I'm not sure we can actually get up to go to bed just yet, but we'll manage.

"Wouldn't a hot tub be good right now?" Brent says.

"Yeah." I part moan in pain.

"Maybe we should expand the patio?" he offers.

I think I want to kill him.

Tomorrow: We lay the flagstone.

We decide not to start until ten o'clock. We're tired and sore, but there's no way to get past it other than to get moving. A few hundred milligram of advil and we can actually get down on our knees.

It rained a little over night and has made the pad like cement. We're delighted. We actually use a laser level to check the grade and everyone deems it perfect. A slight slope away from the house and right at the perfect height. What could possibly go wrong?

At two minutes after ten my dad rolls up and limps out of the car. He looks tired, but determined and we get started - at least we get started talking. At five minutes after ten I'm surprised to see Brent's parents rolling into the farm driveway.

I'm thinking they're on the way to the store, but they announce that they've come to help. Woohoo! Help!!!

After a bracing second cup of coffee we get to work laying out the flagstone. It's like a giant puzzle and after a few minutes we realize is is harder than we thought. The rocks want to be in certain places and we learn not to make a round rock fit into a square opening.

The pieces we've bought are the extra large sizes. Some of the pieces are so large they need three people to carry them into place. With careful steps and fears of crushing fingers each stone is placed lovingly into it's new home. As the patio comes together it already looks wonderfully old and weathered. Raw stone has that look.

We've been discussing different ways to grout the cracks and we eventually decide on screenings. Most websites recommend cement, but not if you live in a cold climate. If you use cement as grout it will crack after the first winter. Another page suggests gator sand, an expensive sand that you sweep into the cracks and when it gets wet is sets like concret, but you can't seal the sand.

We sweep the screenings in place and then gently tamp the patio. We have several stones that crack and we realize too late that over tamping is causing the patio to come apart. The stones are set and solid in the heavy layer of stone. It looks amazing. We use water to get the screenings under the stones, so the flagstone doens't move around.

It's only one o'clock and we break for a tasty lunch of sausage pasta and salad. We discuss different ways to build the lower level and eventually decide to drop the gran A on the dirty and tamp the snot out of it. More work with the backhoe and more runs to the quarry. We're getting to be professional.

While waiting for the second load of screenings dad accidently gets the back hoe stuck in the mud up to the axels. With a little manuvering and huge ruts he gets free, but we've lost our way into the patio with the backhoe. How will we get the stone into the patio area?

I try not to think of the two foot ruts in the backyard or how I'll go about fixing them as we worry about building the second patio.

There is some friendly bantering  when comparing my little Case diesel tractor with front end loader and dad's big backhoe. The biggest check in the win column for my little Case is that she starts everytime. It was March 2010 and Brent was talking about how little my tractor was and that is wasn't a great unit. I retaliated with "At least my tractor starts." Brent's Belarus tractor is notably old and difficult to start - he uses a wrench to jump it.

Brent laughs as my tractor has been sitting all winter and as he stands on the ground he reaches over to the key on my tractor and gives it a turn. I hold my breath as the engine turns over once and catches on the second spin. I do a small celebratory dance and we go back to work.

My father's backhoe is in dire need of batteries, so it needs to be jumped or hooked up to the battery charger nearly all the time.

We decide to use my little case to bring the stone around from the east side because it's lighter. You wouldn't think it was that much lighter, but I can drive it in places the bigger machines won't fit. I love my little Case. I spent slightly more money on my Case than I did on my car and I think that really makes me a farmer.

It takes a little longer to bring the stone around, but we manage. We go through the tamping process and then laying the screenings and tamping again. We begin laying out the flagstone again.

Each stone seems to want to sit in a certain way and eventually we are so tired that we just let the rocks lay themselves and it becomes easy. It's eight o'clock when we finally finish laying the screenings and tamping the final lower level.

Everyone is exhausted, dirty, sore, bruised and a little bloody. We sit outside for a few minutes enjoying our work before going inside to eat. We are famished.

The food is gone and everyone is falling asleep at the table. The parents limp out and leave us to our advil and hot showers. "Hot Tub sure would be nice," Brent chimes up.

Yep. I think I could kill him, but instead I laugh and agree that a long soak in the hot tub would be perfect right about now. With a congratulatory hug we fall into bed.