yews are the devil’s evergreens

When we moved into our house, there were four gigantic yews planted along the front porch.  I’m sure that at one time, they were beautiful and lush.  By the time we got around to pruning them down to where they weren’t blocking out the sun, we couldn’t get all the clipped pieces out, and had to cut it down to where the limbs were all spindly.  By the time we got new growth, the things were as big as before and the dead pieces that weren’t rescued were a lovely shade of diarrhea, still stuck deep within the branches, never to be liberated again.

So we cut them down.  Like two years ago.  And then just dug out the root balls about three weeks ago.  I never said we were speedy.

Yesterday, I bought some lovely little bushes to fill in the dead space that is our lawn.  I apologize in advance to my neighbors and to anyone who drove down our street today.  Those frakking yews had roots the size of Greenland, and I spent a good part of my afternoon hacking at them with an ax, my ass up in the air, jiggling with every whack.  Sorry, no pictures.

Still, two of the four bushes are planted, another hole dug, one to go.  I weeded the jungle around our tree and put down mulch.  We took our one allowed trip to the dump (although we have probably two to make next weekend).  I painted the requisite concrete planter that came with the house so I can put it on the porch with my favorite Lemon Zest petunias in it.  I made dinner, put in a load of laundry, and will most likely have a shower sometime in the next two hours.  I quit.  It’s almost 8 o’clock, and if there ever was a day that I deserved a beer, that day has come.

Now I just have to decide if I should watch Friday’s BSG or read the next Narnia book whilst drinking this hoppy German goodness.  Not the worst choice to have to make on a lovely Sunday evening.