Deforestation on a domestic scale

The first phase of our grand renovation plans was always going to involve the careful removal of the mish-mash of trees in our yard. Bluntly encouraged by our respective parents to hurry up and do something, we've booked to have some professionals come in mid January to see to our unproductive mango tree along with an ugly wattle that threatens to sever the telephone line.

In anticipation of an incoming wood chipper, Alsie and I donned woodsman gear and launched a naive assault on the smaller resident flora. Weapons of choice were a pair of long handled snippers and a trusty hand saw on loan from John. While the blade at first glance seemed inadequete for the grand task before us, I've come to understand, as an man of Asian descent, that it's not size that matters, but what you do with it that counts.



Imagine my surprise when we began to slowly decimate the humungous oakish tree next to our verandah, followed by a heavy pruning of the frangipani out back. By the end of the day I could sense the fear in the surrounding plant life as I lifted the remains of my nemesis over my head, roaring in exaltation. They call me the destroyer of trees, annihilator of shrubs, the Arborator!



I don't have the tools or the knowhow to remove the actual stump in the ground, but rest assured that any green branches that try to grow back will soon taste the wrath of my shears. Or teeth if I'm feeling particularly vicious.



Now the way has been cleared down the side of the house and we can finally bask in the sunlight. Actually... it's getting a little hot now. Maybe we should plant some trees there. Hrmm...