I realized long ago that you’re never really finished building a stone wall, even after you’ve dragged and hefted into place what seemed like the final boulder, exhaled mightily and stepped back to admire your work.

For one thing, new rocks are continuously popping up from the ground, so you’re often tempted to replace an irregularly shaped stone with a fresh one that has a flatter face or smoother grain. We wall-builders, including amateurs like me, are a fickle lot.

In addition, even well-constructed walls require periodic maintenance – deer habitually kick away capstones; crashing tree limbs and frost heaves wreak havoc.

Robert Frost made this observation in his poem, “Mending Wall”:

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun,

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

I don’t think two can pass abreast through gaps in my walls, even if they’re far from perfectly sculpted, such as the stunningly magnificent creation of British environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy.

Containing 1,579 tons of fieldstone, his 2,275-ft. long, 5-ft. high wall that snakes through the woods and a pond at the Storm King Art Center in New Windsor, N.Y., makes me weep with admiration and envy.

When it comes to artistic masonry I am neither Goldsworthy or just plain worthy. I lack the patience and skills to chisel smooth, straight edges using feather and wedges. My walls are more textured and have sort of an organic quality – less like ones depicted on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens and more like what you’d see on an inside page of Mother Jones.

They also are definitely not like the one envisioned by a certain president-elect along a certain national border. Come to think of it, though, the most quoted line in the aforementioned Frost poem is, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Go figure.

Anyway, the other day I decided to repair a small section of wall that borders a path through pines I planted decades ago. I picked out two substantial rocks I once had eyed for use as stairs but left in place when I realized they were too unwieldy to maneuver without use of a team of oxen, a backhoe or thousands of laborers as the ancient Egyptians did when they built the pyramids.

Not surprisingly, the two block-shaped boulders had not gotten any lighter since I last tried to budge them, and so I had to dust off my trusty four-ton come-a-long – a ratcheted winch with steel cables – to supplement the pry bars, log fulcrums and hand dolly I rely on for more modest rock-moving operations.

After a couple hours of sweating and struggling to drag one of the rocks about 50 yards over uneven ground I decided that its twin would be just as well served as a cornerstone in a different location only about 10 feet downhill. That’s a nice aspect of working alone – making an executive decision without prolonged deliberation. It took only about 10 minutes to pry the stubborn boulder up with a lever, jam in some wood cribbing and let Newton’s First Law of Motion do it’s thing.

I should also mention that before I gave the rock a shove I took the precaution of piling a few smaller rocks a few feet downhill to prevent the boulder from rolling all the way to the street and perhaps into the side of a passing school bus. After another 10 minutes of jabbing with the pry bar I managed to scootch it in place alongside the path. There it will rest – just as “planned.” If anybody asks, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Meanwhile I still had to finish moving the first boulder to finish the wall repair. The last few feet were uphill, requiring use of the come-a-long, as you can see in the accompanying video.

I wrapped one length of steel cable around a sturdy oak, looped another around the boulder, hooked the come-a-long between them and started cranking the ratchet lever. A few things can go awry – a wire can snap, the loop around the boulder can rip free, the ratchet gear can jam – but happily the rock inched forward, helped by 2x4s I used as a makeshift skid.

Using a mattock and shovel I dug a hole next to the boulder, and once it reached the lip I gave it a shove with the pry bar.

Whoomp! In it tumbled. A few more persuasive jiggles of the pry bar and the boulder settled exactly where I wanted it.

All that was left to do was to pack dirt around the base of the rock, rake leaves over the excavation area, even things out with a few small, flat rocks, and my wall looks like it’s been standing for centuries.

Naturally, once I had the tools out I decided to rebuild a set of stone steps leading to the outdoor pizza oven. Once I started that project I realized it would make sense to connect those stairs to another stone staircase I use to get to the woodsheds and garden, so I have plenty to keep me busy.

Not that I’m complaining – working with stone has always been a labor of love.

With luck I’ll be finished before the snow flies and ground freezes.