Just call me Mortar Girl

Yep, that's a poke at my kid, who's a mortarman in the Army.

However . . . these two formerly well-manicured hands of mine have created steps where, four days ago, there was nothing but air. Steps that are not bad to look at. That come pretty darn close to the recommended rise and run (or height and width for the uninitiated). Steps that will endure a lifetime.

Or, at least, a few years.

I've never built anything out of stone before, but I have plenty of how-to books, and I'm a big believer that if a man can do it, so can I. I may have to find alternative methods -- for example, I couldn't use any stones that I couldn't lift myself (except for the one base stone that my husband helped me with). I couldn't carry the 70-pound bags of sand from the garage to the back of the house -- or the 60-pound bags of mortar, for that matter -- but I could darn well push them in the wheelbarrow. I couldn't mix 60 pounds of mortar at once, either, but I managed 20-pound batches quite nicely.

A little hard work, frequent runs to Home Depot, a lot of sweat, and voila -- steps that I am extraordinarily proud of.

Hmm . . . I have extra sand . . . and mortar . . . and stone. And that flower bed around front really does need a border around it . . . And I'd love to have a new flower bed or two . . . and wouldn't a stone wall look nice down by the office . . . Rachel9:46 AM