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Today, I was way too goal-oriented for my own good. I even scared myself. We have a dark, creepy, moisty, musty corner over behind our Nassty Shed in the back yard. There is a huge, ever-expanding weed-bush-tree-being living back there. Three different fences wend around the monstrosity, and it's been hacked to bits before, but it continues to grow, defiantly vigorous. Its limbs tangle impenetrably, and it projects an aura of malice. I keep expecting to find human bones in that corner, among all the other debris collected there. All winter, I tried hating the Bush to death, but no go. It sprouted leaves and new shoots just as soon as the weather hit 50 degrees. I knew then that I would have to smite it. Having smitten everything else in the yard, the Horrible Shrub is my last frontier. Today, I hacked at it with my big loppers, piling up a heap of brush bigger than any little middle-aged woman can handle. I'm not too worried. Our neighbor, Don, is coming over with his chainsaw on Saturday. He hates the Horrid Tree Thing, too, because it blocks the flight path for his bees. Don has a trailer, so we're going to load the brush on there and drive it over to the landfill nearby. I was merely preparing the tree for its coming doom, kind of like the haircut you give someone who's about to be beheaded. As I lopped, I found myself singing, to counteract the malevolence produced by the Vegetative Lump. Much to my surprise, I did the Tom Bombadil song from Fellowship of the Ring, just as if I were dealing with Old Man Willow. I think I scared my neighbor Amy, who could only see my torso (on a short ladder) sticking up from behind the fence, leaves in my hair, face red, wearing gloves and wielding red loppers, chanting,"Ho! Tom Bom-ba-dil! Tom Bom-ba-dill-o! Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yel-low!" That Tree Thing is goin' *down* come Saturday, for Cait, she is the Master! |
 
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Evil Tree