The hives

Today I spent the day with my dad. Not at a day-long rock concert but trimming the tree in front of my house. Usually I hate gardening but this time it was fun. Sickened by my lack of gardening and letting the yard go to shit, my dad has given me all sorts of gardening tools--weed wackers, sharp cutters, gloves, etc. (I know what you're thinking, no hoes. Sorry.) For today's job, we used a chainsaw on a pole!

Nothing against the trees, but the one in front of my guest room was getting too close to the roof and wires overhead. Before I knew it, the once-proud tree was reduced to a Charlie Brown Christmas twig. We filled four garbage cans and made a pile of trimmings that is now sitting on the side of the yard. It looks like something you'd see in the background of a Sasquatch photo.

But in the end, nature always wins. My arms are itchy, my eyes are dried out, my nose is stuffy, and I feel worse than Royce Gracie, who got his head bashed in by a young, tough Matt Hughes in the UFC tonight.

In a couple weeks, when the pile is reduced and I have more space in my trash cans, it's on to the next round, as I tackle the next tree.