Illustration for the post "I removed a dead root...with an ax." Illustration of garden tools in a row: a hoe, an ax, and hedge shears. The ax is surrounded by light and has a green ribbon on it with a thumbs up symbol in the middle.

I removed a dead root…

With an ax

#0025

I can only imagine how I looked. An ax head poised in midair, my hands gripping the handle as I pulled it down into the earth, hearing a resounding “thwack” as the sharp, curved edge cut into the dead, dry roots of a large bush that had long since passed away.

I was sick of it. Sick of tripping over those roots and having to maneuver around them. They had to go, and, for whatever reason, I thought now was the time.

I tried digging at first with my glove-covered hands. Then, I tried using the garden hoe. That didn’t work. When I saw the ax in the garage by the tools, I felt inspired. This will work!

I tried digging at first with my glove-covered hands. Then, I tried using the garden hoe. That didn’t work. When I saw the ax in the garage by the tools, I felt inspired. This will work!

Oh yes! This root will come out of the ground. It is dry, rotted, and sticking out the ground at an odd angle, making it a tripping hazard and perpetually in the way. It had to go!

I tried not to think about the neighbors cautiously peeking out of their windows to see what the noise was about, only to see a frantic woman wielding an ax only a few yards away.

It doesn’t help that we have no less than five houses sharing a driveway, so that meant over 16 windows overlooking the exact spot where I was swinging away like a mad woman at the dirt.

Sure, using an ax was probably a bit of an overkill—kind of like using a butcher’s knife to remove a hangnail. But I knew it would be better than what I had tried so far.

To my credit, it only took 4 or 5 hard swings before it broke free. I triumphantly held up the 3-foot-long, gnarled, thick root. Just in case anyone was looking, I wanted to provide visual proof that my swinging at the dirt might look crazy, but it was with purpose.

Satisfied, I dropped it into our yard waste container with a heavy thud before brushing the dirt off the ax and returning it to the garage. It was only then I remembered that we had a gas fireplace and no trees in our yard.

Why do we have an ax?

As far as I know, Handsome doesn’t have any latent redrum, Jack Torrance tendencies. If so, I doubt it would have been in plain sight. Besides, if he had any psychotic tendencies, it may be a miracle he hasn’t already used it on me, given my delightful but admittedly annoying quirks of temperament.

So when did we get an ax? I don’t remember buying it.

When I asked Handsome about it, his only response was, “It’s mine. I bought it a while ago.”

Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll tell him I used it. He freaks out when I’m welding a box cutter for fear I’ll cut myself. I can only imagine what he would think of me hacking away at the dirt with an ax.

Although if I had chopped my leg in my pursuit of root removal, I could have used the Monty Python line, “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Good comic relief.

Even though the blood spurting from my leg would fulfill the Black Knight reference, the fact that it would be real blood instead of corn syrup would probably ruin the comedy just a bit.

Good thing I didn’t hack myself to bits in my determination to remove a root.

Handsome would never forgive me or let me near sharp objects ever again.

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