I had a live oak cut down in my backyard six years ago. Lightning strikes had split the trunk near the juncture where it diverged into two main branches. A heavy windstorm could have caused half of the tree to come crashing down on the back of my house. A large stump remained.
I ignored it for the most part until the beginning of this year. Ferns and bushes had grown up in the gaps between the roots. The growth had spread so wide that the twin paths around it narrowed down until it became difficult for my wife to pick her way past on her daily walks. I began by pulling up ferns. Odd translucent bulbs surfaced as the plants came out of the soil. Some of the ferns grew on top of the stump by sinking tenacious roots into the crumbling surface. They made a tearing sound like separating strips of Velcro when they finally gave way.
After stripping the foliage back from the stump, I attacked with an ax. The outside edges split off easily enough, but as I cut nearer to the center, I encountered darker, denser wood. The tough stuff sometimes deflected the ax blade, and I had to be careful to keep my feet nowhere near the strike point. It occurred to me, after a long session that left me winded and covered in sweat, that I never would have made it as a pioneer.
Wood chips began to deflect in all directions. I once heard a metallic ping as a chunk struck a bird feeder standing fifteen feet away. One ricocheted off the back window. (I began to rake the yard after each work session to pick up scattered bits and fragments.) I considered buying a wedge and sledgehammer to pry bigger slabs off the trunk, to speed up the process, but decided to use a regular hammer to drive the axe head deeper after a good strike. After two weeks of intermittent work, I’ve cut the stump’s circumference in half.
I began this project to clear room in the yard and to save the money I’d have to spend to hire someone to grind the stump. After the difficulty kept increasing, I thought that I had engaged in a never ending fool’s errand. And each time I went out with my axe, I ran into another physical issue. My hands blistered, back and hips complained, and I often had to stop to catch my breath. On cold days, my exercise induced asthma kicked in whenever I took a break. I compensated by wearing work gloves, doing yoga, and wearing a mask to keep my breath warm (to counter the asthma).
I think I’ve persevered for three reasons: I want to accomplish something requiring endurance, to meet a challenge; I want to get outside and away from my computer; and I want to wear myself out every time I watch too much news about recent events. It’s hard to feel anxious when exhausted. There’s less energy available.
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