I got the wind under it.

What an excellent term. I heard it on the blindboy podcast today. They were discussing the certifiably ancient tradition of lifting stones.
There are different “Tests” to lifting different stones. Some, you’ve got to get up on to altars, or up to your chest to kiss it three times, while for other, heavier stones, the goal is merely to make a gap big enough for the wind. Lifting it even an inch is often enough to pass the test. 

That’s the stone I got wind under. 
It took Jack and me three hours and a great big lever to haul it up out of the forest. 

Lifting a stone isn’t like lifting a barbell, you’ve got to negotiate with it, understand it, feel it. You learn about it, how to hold it, where it’s center of gravity is, where it’s sharp parts are, it’s slippy parts. For the ancient stones this is apparently like speaking with the dead, shaking their hand as you can feel them make the same exchanges with the stone through time.

There were testing stones to decide if you were a man, or a warrior, or a fisherman, or a stone mason. If you could lift them, you were ready for the trials of that role. 

Something I quite like about testing stones is that you aren’t really in competition. If you and someone else can both lift the stone you aren’t at eachothers throats, you’re just celebrating your mutual love of the rock. You’re lauding eachother for being part of a subcategory: people who can lift that rock. You honor one another.

I’m not sure what the stones on my property will prove to those who lift them. 
That they’re at an eccentric place, I guess.