It’s true. My patio took one year to complete.
Not because I live on sprawling acres with a mansion’s worth of outdoor space to spruce up. But because I was waiting on a man (when will I learn my lesson?) to help me complete it.
When I first moved into my place, the landlord had set trash cans on a perfectly fabulous stone nook by my entryway. I really didn’t want garbage to be the first impression left upon folks when pulling into my mini-manse. I moved the trash to the side of my house and a small patio set took its place. Being greedy, I wanted to expand my patio real estate to give a very impressive impression to my friends who always come over (so what if they are usually the mail carrier, UPS or the water meter reader?! Don’t judge me. My friends are very busy procreating).
Upon hearing me whine for more patio space, my dad suggested purchasing square stone and if I did, he would level and install (and some other fancy handy man vocab) them for me. My mom bought the additional stone for me as a house warming gift and we unloaded them and there they sat…and sat…and sat. Because it was too hot outside, the ground was too wet, the ground was frozen, or it was too cold to tolerate to work on the patio, etc…the stones sat all by their lonesome. Until this past summer when the stars were aligned perfectly in the sky and my dad came in to finish the hard work he suggested starting.
But with all of the digging and leveling, the area looked like a place Joe Dirt would be proud to call his own. Anticipating the whine calf I was about to become, my dad (who is apparently psychic) suggested we invest in some decorative rock.
Upon saving so much loot in the clearance rock, Dad thought he should plant some hostas to add as the cherries on top of my sprawling patio kingdom.
And of course a few hostas were not going to do the trick for this Queen of the Rock Pile, so I commissioned the planting of more! more! more! crowned jewels.
With the addition of six more hostas, my perfect patio plans were executed (by my dad, as I directed placement and kept cool with a cocktail).
And when I think about the nearly 365 day construction phase of this patio, I must thank the project manager, Dad, for making me realize that good things do come to those who wait. And wait. And wait. And wait (sometimes not so patiently). Now I have a patio, complete with a side wing for a fire pit, hostas for atmosphere and plenty of room to rub elbows. All for under $60.