The trifoliate orange would not give me a crown of thorns as I passed by.
The holly bushes would not claim the skin about my ankles when I went to the garage.
The dwarf Japanese maple would not longer hide my cat’s gambling ring.

These victories would come at my hands which wielding some sort of two stroke engine powering a whirling or reciprocating blade would subdue the flora about my home. The glacial uprising of the bushes were easily stopped with a hedge trimmer. I’ve learned that I’m just as bad with hedge trimmers as I am with hair trimmers, but only just. From here, I quickly encountered trouble as there were no fully functional lawn mowers, leaf blowers, or standard string weed whackers at my house. What to do? Use the wrong tool for the wrong job. While string heads are standard on weed whackers, blades are also available. These do cut down weeds but are much less graceful when impacting the ground. Each slight dip that contacted earth resulted in a small grapeshot catapult load of stone hitting my legs. I slowly got better, but not without cost.

At days end, I was coated in a fine layer of dirt, gravel, and poison ivy shrapnel but had restored the corner of my man-card that was lost when I went to Jiffylube to get an oil change.