Summer and feeling the pressure of building an outdoor fire pit

It was a breezy July morning when my father came up with a scheme to build a stone and mortar outdoor fireplace.

 

The day before we had fashioned some planks into a square and poured concrete in to form a base pad.

I helped by wetting the material he was putting into the giant cement mixer.

I used all my might to spin the side wheel to fold together the batter of stone and sand inside the large metal cavern.

Once we had enough material my father pulled the barrel over to dump the mushy gray mess into the square.

We had a little material left over which we poured over the top of the rock break wall near the driveway.

As my father troweled the material around to make a good flat surface, I tried to kill the many deerflies who had come out to cheer us on in our project.

When the surface was completely smoothed we began to toss the stones.

My father hoisted me up on the tailgate of his pickup truck where the large pile of round rocks sat.

Most were too heavy for me to lift, but I was able to roll them out to the edge where they could be grabbed and placed close to the new concrete pad.

The operation was moving pretty smoothly until I got my middle finger pinched between two large rocks.

My fingernail immediately turned purple and I wanted to cry from the pain.

But I also wanted to finish the project, so I put my fingertip in my mouth and tried to use one hand to move the heavy stones.

When all our rocks were finally in position my dad took a good look at my finger.

“I’ll bet that smarts,” he said, as I tried to hold back the tears.

It hurt so much that not even the ice that I applied to it could ease the pain.

When I woke up the next morning my finger was twice its normal size and the nail was black and blue.

My father poked a hot pin through the center of it to relieve the pressure.

It was a painful process but soon I felt good enough to help my dad complete the fire pit.

My father was not great at building stuff but I liked having a hand in the projects he tackled, growing up Adirondack.

Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Big Moose Lake.

ltmitch3rdny@aol.com