Well I got some complaints that I have neglecting my blog. And I have. Something about trying to get work done and being highly distracting by my upcoming twinzapalooza.

Right now my focus in life has narrowed, laser beam-like, on digging a post hole in my backyard.

What follows is an epic tale of man against nature, in the tradition of Jack London. It is also a tale with strong existential overtones in the thematic style of a Camus. It will also contain at least one dick joke, just like an Eddie Murphy routine. Plus there will be pie.

Recently we came to the conclusion that the beautiful, old ash tree in our neighbor's yard had just grown too big for its britches. And more importantly, our smallish lots. Its roots were starting to undermine my foundation and the tree had already taken out the adjoining fence, which was being held up by nothing more than the giant tree. So, sad as it was to kill such a magnificent specimen of of the vegetable kingdom, it was my home or it. $2000 bucks and the scariest wood chipper I have ever seen (I am fairly certain you could toss a Buick Skylark in there without a hiccup in its rhythmic rrrrmmm) and the tree was gone. As was all the shade it provided. Nicely timed for August.

Anyway, as I already mentioned the tree had left the fence in tatters. As I had relatively recently constructed a small stretch of fence from scratch (which still looks good, I might add), I felt entirely confident I could sink a new fence post, attach the surviving piece of fence and then repair whatever holes remained. Bing, Bang, Boom, fence problem temporarily solved until we finally get around to replacing it entirely (the wood is not in good shape, crumbling at the edges).

I buy my 4x4 fence post. I buy my Quickcrete to secure said fencepost in place. I prepare my electric drill and screws for the attachment, securing of new fence pieces, etc. I warm up the power saw table and take inventory of the 2x4s I can use as needed. I am ready to tear this old fence a new one!

Now fence post digging can be a pain, as you need to place roughly 1/3 of your fence post underground to ensure it is properly anchored (i.e. won't tear a foot deep hole in the ground if you lean on it). So for a 5 foot high post, that is a 2.5 foot hole. This is also approximately the length of my arm if you throw in a bit of shoulder and the edge of a garden spade, something I verified experimentally when I put up the successful (and did I mention handsome?) fence. Now you can rent something call a post hole digger, but I only needed one hole. I figured I would be done in an hour. Tops.

Now someone with a bit of foresight might already have forseen the problem I rapidly developed. When digging a hole within a foot or two of a previoulsy existing 100-150 foot tree (it was damn big), it would not in the least bit be surprising to find some roots. Big, thick roots. Like logs, buried in the ground. After approximately 5 minutes of shoveling, it became clear there was no root free place along the line of the fence. I would have to cut through the roots or abandon/rethink the project.

I made the wrong choice. Cutting through roots basically requires a pick axe, which I borrowed from my father. I think it had been in my family for a generation, as it lasted about 5 minutes before the wood in the handle split. One sad attempt at repair later (I tried reattaching the head with screws...it sorta worked. It also sorta put me in constant danger with each swing of the pick axe of losing a toe). So to OSH I went, returning proudly with my spanking new pick axe, which now uses plastic to reinforce the wood around the pick head. Thirty sweaty minutes later (did I mention it was August and not cool and my shade tree was gone?) and 2 inches of excavated hole later, I knew this was going to be a substantial undertaking.

A weaker man (i.e. smarter) would have again taken the opportunity to abandon the project, hire someone to complete it for them, reworked the problem... really anything would be better than going forward. But I was determined.

And by determined I mean bull-headedly stubborn. The hole would be mine!

So now it has become my morning exercise. I get up, watch 20-30 minutes of TV to shake out the cobwebs, throw on some work clothes, and pick that hole for all I am worth (~30 minutes). When I feel close to collapse due to a combination of fatigue and heat exhaustion (something I could avoid by getting up earlier... file that under thing #2456 that would be better if I could get my ass out of bed earlier), I crawl back inside, shower and head off to work.

The hole is now nearly a foot deep, and its diameter is over a foot, depending on where you measure it. The roots get softer and less dense as I go deeper, but it gets harder and harder to swing the pick axe. So I have to widen the hole to allow for the pick axe swings. I think by the time I am done it will look like a blast crater. My latest excavation definitely uncovered several square inches of pure, easily removed soil, so I am greatly encouraged. I am hoping one more day of picking will allow me to get down deep enough so that the roots are soft enough that they can be attacked with a garden spade. After that, it should finish very quickly. Kock on wood. I have plenty of that, anyway.

I am not sure what I will do after I complete this crazy little project. It is certain to leave a vacuum in my life. Or dare I say, a hole?

No, I really shouldn't have dared, but that is what you get for reading a blog entirely about digging one hole. And sorry, I lied about the pie.