The Campaign Against All That Is Ivy Continues

I am slowly winning the Ivy Death Struggle, and quickly becoming a source of neighborhood entertainment. At least I met another neighbor today. And may even get another ivy pulling job out of it.

Hear me now and believe me later: no one would do this for money. Only for their own bullshit household ownership craziness. They couldn't offer me the amount of money it would take for me to do this for someone else.

However, for entertainment value, I'm sure it's not unfunny to watch me pull vines, then pull harder, then give it everything I've got, then watch me stumble backwards as the vine finally gives way.

The pulling and backward-dancing is probably nothing compared to watching me go to town on the roots with a pickax that probably weighs more than I would normally bench press (if I had been anywhere near a weight bench in the last three years). For a while, I was lifting it straight up in the air, balancing it there for a moment, hoping it didn't fall too far back and compromise my tenuous grasp on my balance, and bringing it down somewhere in the vicinity of what I was aiming for. Then, if I got a lucky hit, prying the roots out.

Then I remembered seeing the big, burly guys making a nice arc with their pickaxes, using the head like a flywheel and using its joe-mentum to do the damage. So I practiced that method for a while. I might have been using my energy more wisely, but whatever aim I had going for me was gone. I'm sure it was deeply entertaining.

But check out my progress so far, losers:

And if you prefer prettier ivy death:

That's right, folks, June 30 and I'm almost to the telephone pole. Which means I'm not even half way done. But I could be a third of the way done. If you're generous with your measurements.

This is piglet, signing off and heading for the tub.