Concrete Jungle: The Wild Life of a Slab in the Midwest

  It’s a tough life, out here in the concrete jungle. Not for the faint of heart, I tell you. My name is Pat – short for Patio, though sometimes people just call me "that cracked slab out back." I’m a hardworking piece of concrete, poured with pride right here in the heart of the Midwest, specifically in Collinsville, IL. For years, I’ve served my human family well, bearing the weight of barbecues, kiddie pools, and countless summer gatherings. But life as a slab is a constant battle against the elements, and let me tell you, the Midwest throws everything it’s got.

My biggest nemesis? The dreaded freeze-thaw cycle. It’s like a never-ending boxing match. In the summer, I bake under the scorching Illinois sun. I expand, happily soaking up the warmth. But then, autumn sneaks in, bringing those crisp nights, and eventually, winter slams down with its icy grip. The water that seeped into my tiny pores during a warm spell freezes solid, expanding with incredible force. It pushes and pulls at my very being. Then, the sun peeks out, it thaws, and the water shrinks. This constant expansion and contraction, season after season, is exhausting. It’s how I got these battle scars, these hairline cracks that web across my surface like old age wrinkles.

Then there’s erosion, a sneaky, silent attacker. Rain isn’t just a refreshing shower for us slabs. It often carries away the soil beneath me. Over time, these little streams become bigger currents, washing away the very earth that supports me. Suddenly, I’m not as firmly planted as I once was. There are hollow spaces, voids, beneath my surface. It’s unsettling, like standing on quicksand. One minute I’m level, the next I might feel a slight give, a subtle shift. This settling is not only uncomfortable for me but can also create tripping hazards for my humans.

And don't even get me started on the foot traffic. While I appreciate the laughter and good times, every footstep, every barbecue grill rolled across my surface, every heavy planter moved, contributes to my wear and tear. My human family means well, but they don't always see the tiny abrasions, the gradual thinning of my protective outer layer. Over time, this constant friction makes me more vulnerable to my other enemies. Sometimes, a particularly heavy impact from a dropped tool or a sudden, hard landing can create a chip or a deeper crack, a wound that makes me even more susceptible to water intrusion and the relentless freeze-thaw.

Being a concrete slab in the Midwest is a test of endurance. From the scorching summers to the brutal winters, from the relentless erosion of rain to the constant pressure of daily life, every day is a fight to stay strong and level. It’s a wild life, this concrete jungle, but I strive to stand firm, providing a solid foundation for my human family's memories. And when the battles get too tough, well, that's when a true hero, like Woods Basement Systems, steps in to patch me up and make me feel like a brand new slab again.