Manual Labor

Boy, my bones be aching! What a sally!

Remember the snowstorm that hit the northeast US back in February? I blogged about it here, and you could see some photos of my front and back yards.

At the time, it wasn’t that paralyzing for us. We shoveled out the next day, and in a week most of the snow had melted. But it did do us some damage.

On the east side of our house is a four-foot pathway between my garage and a four-foot stonewall drop-off where my neighbor’s property begins. His house is about six feet from this stone wall, four feet below my property. Well, between the pathway and the stonewall, up on my property, sit some hedges. I’m not a gardener, so I don’t know what plants they are, but there are five evenly-spaced stumps with a half-dozen shoots coming out of each one. They extended upwards about seven or eight feet and curl over towards my garage, forming a little tunnel you need to walk through to get to my backyard.

Well, during that February blizzard, the heavy snow and wind actually bent those plants away from my garage, over towards my neighbor’s house at a 45 degree angle, eventually brushing up against his house. What’s more, about two or three weeks ago, at the beginning of spring, I noticed that not only had these hedges not righted themselves, but the displaced weight actually caused a five-foot section of the stone wall below to crumble. A dozen twenty-pound stones were strewn about in the alley between the stone wall and my neighbor’s house.

Not good. Plus, my land above the stone wall is beginning to erode.

I bit the bullet, as they say, and rang the neighbor’s doorbell. I showed him what had happened to the hedges and the wall. He was aware of the bushes brushing up against his house, but the wall shocked him. Knowing that I owned the bushes, I told him I was going to either right them by tying them up with string or cut them down. He was thinking about getting a landscaper to repair the wall, but I said that I’d like to try restacking them myself. He agreed.

(Just to satisfy my curiosity, I went to the strongbox and got out the deed for my property when I bought the house in 2004. The surveyor drew circles along my property line indicating the stone wall. However, it does not indicate whether I or my neighbor own it. In fact, it kinda hints to joint custody. FYI, there’s also a stone wall on the western side of my property that I presumably share with that neighbor.)

I went to the store to buy rope. No rope. Only twine. Okay, so I purchase the twine. Next workday, Little One’s in school, Patch is napping, and I’m rolling up my sleeves about to do some yardwork. Hmmm. These hedges are a bit more thicker, stronger, and numerous than I’d thought. The average thickness where I want to attach the twine is about an inch. And these guys are stubborn – they won’t budge. Also, there’s nothing really to attach the twine to. I scratch my head, my spirits sinking. How the hell am I going to chop these bushes down?

Fortunately, both my stepdad and my brother are handymen. They’re as handy as I am not. I own one toolbox (about the size of a large lunchbox) and in that toolbox are two hammers, three regular screwdrivers and three Philips head screwdrivers. Oh, the screwdrivers are all the same size, by the way. These guys have a tool for every possible plan, for every conceivable contingency. Plus, they’re actually enthusiastic about home repair and maintenance. Must be a gene that passed double-recessive to me in the womb.

Anyway, this past Wednesday my stepfather drives down with a saws-all, a three-foot hedge clipper, and one of those sickle-shaped saws that can reach up in trees to cut through thick, high branches. We spend four hours in 85 degree heat cutting these bad boys down. I’m amazed at the sheer amount of work, the sheer volume of bushes that needs to be removed. We cut them off at about six inches from the ground, but they’re so thick and intertwined we have to cut dozens of branches lose just to get everything out. And then drag these humongous, snaking hedges across my driveway and front lawn towards the street. Thank God there wasn’t a beehive in those thickets, though there was an empty birds-nest. We cut some up and fill my trash cans about half-way, then stack the remaining brush in a fairly orderly pile.

That night I relax in movie theater air conditioning, watching Clash of the Titans and nursing a minor sunburn.

The next day I spend an hour-and-a-half making that pile shrink half in size. I fill my three trash cans with about sixty pounds of branches in each, and put them out for collection the next morning. I restack what remains and quickly rake the lawn. Finally, I hop over to the neighbor’s yard and attempt to rebuild the stone wall. The best I could do is get it to a 60 degree pile instead of a 30 degree pile. Those rocks are heavy, and because the dirt is crumbling they keep tumbling down. But eventually I get them all back on top of each other. If my neighbor wants to hire someone to redo it, I won’t feel guilty.

Then, yesterday, my brother shows up with a chainsaw, a woodchipper, and his 10-year-old son. We spend ninety minutes chipping down all the remaining brush, refilling the three trashcans, raking the yards, and chainsawing those six-inch hedge stumps down to the ground. Then they take off to make baseball practice. My parents stop by and help. I stand amazed at the incredible amount of work that’s been done by four people in seven hours – and not a trace of it remains on my lawn anymore!

Thank you, men, for all your help! If you ever need a short story written, I’m your man!

So, my yard is looking fine. However, my body is aching! I’ve not done manual labor of this sort since, well, probably not since we moved in to the house six years ago. Plus, this past year my only job is really managing two little girls, so I don’t really exercise much. What I do do is eat. Junk food. Too much junk food. And now not only am I feeling it, I’m regretting it! I need Advil just to get to bed at night. I walk around creaking like the Tin Man, afraid to stretch lest my leg breaks in half at the knee. God, even my neck aches.

Well, it serves as a warning, I suppose. A wake-up call. Monday I have to go down to the hospital and get a lung scan for my nine-month check up. Hopefully the lung is up to about 50 percent functionality. Two weeks after that I have a meeting with my doctor, the one who did my June 2009 surgery. So there’s plenty of incentive to eat right over the next fifteen days, and to hit that exercise bike.

That is, once I finish those cookies in the cupboard I bought yesterday …