I was dead tired, but I decided to bother my dad in the backyard before I relaxed and slept. The remains of our tree-cutting day stood in the middle of the ground, making it's last stand. My dad was slowly digging away at the roots, making the stump bigger and bigger. I grabbed a tiny hoe and just scraped away at the other side. We were unaware of how hard this seemingly simple task was.
We started to hit bigger roots, ones that the shovel couldn't punch through. I was asked to take out the chainsaw, and we hacked away at the tough roots. They were still quite alive, after a month of not having much to supply to. This made it harder for us to cut through. After a trip to buy some oil, the chains coming off several times, the blade just dulling out, we gave up. Who knew that cutting down the tree was the easy part? I went inside and literally collapsed on my bed. Tired, sweaty, smelly. I think fatigued is a good word for it. By the time I woke up, my dad had managed to go buy an axe and get it out before the snow hit. Next stop, fill in that hole! But that's for next time.
I was already tired by the time I got home, but when I started digging and getting messy, a sense of adventure came over me. I might get into this whole gardening thing a little.
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