Here lies another reminder of my divorce and my ex’s inability to finish anything she starts, the backyard. When we first got the house, Somara wanted to do all this yard crap and gardening and blah blah. Handling the lawn and yard was her duty while I tackled others in the old Maggi Republic’s division of labor. In the final few years, the excuses happened every Spring-Summer despite my frequent offers to help out: it’s too hot, it’s too overwhelming and other cazzate.
Not any longer, I bought a decent battery-powered chainsaw, a machete and rolled out the lawnmower. What you see above is at least a decent path from the gate (a new fence is in the cards) to the back porch with little to no obstruction. The stump was courtesy of my chainsaw, a helluva lot faster than the machete. I also employed my new tool around the AC unit to alleviate its fight with a couple skank trees messing with it. If they didn’t provide shade, they died. One awful offender we let get by is so large, I’m sure it’s causing the excess condensation under the indoor system. Found out I need a more powerful drill for the stumps. The poison I luckily discovered in the garage requires pretty deep holes for the gunk to go in and then do its thing for four-to-six weeks. Those pictures will come later, like when the whole yard is really clear.
Next weekend, I may just clear the back porch or keep pushing until I get to the back fence. It doesn’t matter too much as this is going to take months. Plus I have to kill a hive of fuckin’ mud-daubers, a form of asshole wasps/hornets.
This is what it has looked like for about five to seven years.