David And The Stump

Pedestals are a peculiar thing. Super handy if you’re short, great for when you need to be seen by a large crowd, a place from which to reign – or fall – whichever the case may be. But what if that fall is not you? What if it’s the actual pedestal? What if you are passively minding your own business and your pedestal betrays you?

Just ask David.

Oh, I don’t mean any David. I mean THE David. No, not that one. I mean the one in my back yard.

Bless his heart.

The David chronicles continue.

Y’all know he’s been having a backyard standoff with the chicken for quite a few months now. They’ve both been on their best behavior, dutifully standing guard over their domain that is the Brooks Barracks. And y’all know David has been perched atop his oak tree stump pedestal, surrounded by potted plants, giving him a beautiful Italiano feel.

So you can imagine my surprise when I went out to water the plants yesterday (after a 3 Mile run/walk and mowing the back yard) and found one of the pots had fallen off of the oak tree stump pedestal. Huh, I said, maybe even out loud. (Sometimes the voices escape). The squirrels like to harass me and dig in the pots, so I thought maybe one had knocked this pot over. So I leaned in to investigate.

Well crap.

The pot had in fact fallen over on its own because the pedestal on which it sat had given up the ghost.

Woodrot.

This massive oak tree slice had been too wet for too long and was disintegrating before our very eyes. Except our eyes had not noticed until it threw this pot.

So much for my powers of observation.

I moved the other small pots off of the pedestal to see what I could see, and what I could see was mass destruction, creeping it’s way toward David from the outside inward. Houston, we have a problem.

Houston seems to hear from me a lot.

This is not good. I am home alone, tired, hungry, and in disbelief. A combo worse than a Taco Bell 5 Buck Box. Any one of these things could bring mass destruction, and here we have multiples.

Time for a snack.

I had some carbs, reevaluated the situation, and got back at it. The stump had to be removed and The David protected at all costs. This may finish me off.

I moved all the pots out of the way, gathered my tools, and began the task of moving a three-thousand-four-hundred-seventy-seven pound concrete statue that’s hardly four feet tall.

Y’all.

I mean, I know this sucker is heavy, but come on, how heavy can it BE?

It can be that heavy.

I scooted it close to the edge of the tree stump, making sure to not leave it on rotted wood where it could fall, and considered my options.

I can’t pick it up, of course, so gently teetering it off the edge and lying it down seemed to be the way to go. Of course there was a small part of the tiniest corner of my brain that felt like David was gonna help me out a little. You know, like when you go to pick up your heavy toddler and they give that tiny little jump to make it easier on you. Or not.

But the tree stump is just tall enough that it’s too far down to just scoot David off, so I gotta devise a step-down plan. I scan the yard for suitable apparatus and settle on the outdoor chair cushions that the squirrels and birds have already destroyed. (Ticked me off at first when they tore it up, but then I gave in and let them take the stuffing. Because who doesn’t like a nice comfy cozy bed?) I stacked the two right in front of David, told him the plan, and we both put our toes on the edge of the abyss. I shimmied him centimeter by centimeter until there was no turning back.

We both almost ended up on the ground.

It was like it was in slow motion. I leaned him forward with the hope of his square base landing straight on the cushions and me just leaning him face down to the ground.

Yeah. That ain’t how it happened.

Next thing I know David is doing his best to give me a hickey on my neck. Bad idea, Bro. I knew if we kept going at this trajectory I’d be under the David, staring at the sky. So I leaned to the right, and so did David, as we continued toward the ground. Because did I tell you he weighs eight-hundred-sixty-four pounds? I thought for a split second that the paramedics were going to find me dead under a four foot statue. And I’d be dead so I wouldn’t be able to explain it. But whatever. I got him to the ground and I was still on my feet, so I guess we’ll call that successful.

Now what.

Time to figure out just how bad the stump is, and how to remove and dispose of it.

I took the axe and started to chop. The outer 8 or so inches all the way around it were total mush.

So that was easy. Got my little dump wagon and filled it with disintegrated tree and hauled it to the green space behind the yard.

Round one done. Just a couple more to go. But the closer I chopped to the center of stump, the more difficult it became. It wasn’t rotten in the middle, so it required actual axe work. Mama was wearing down. Remember that yard mowing and 3 Mile jog? Yeah, kicking my butt right about now.

But, ya know, when you’re wearing down, tired, weak, and lacking umph, all ya need to do is tilt over the stump you’re chopping up to expose the snake that’s happily coiled up under there to give yourself a jolt of adrenaline to get your system re-started.

So there’s that.

Now there’s more to deal with. Because I needed more on this particular day.

I contemplated my next move and decided that I’d leave the snake under there until the very last minute. I continued to chop away toward the core of the stump until it was a manageable size to tilt completely over and be able to “take care of” the snake, which I did. Then I had a drink. No, not a drink, just a drink. Adrenaline makes you need water. I needed gallons at this point.

Now that that part was over, I dumped the rest of the debris in the woods and began the re-org. Because I needed to heave around four-hundred-and-fourteen pounds of potted plants. This workout is becoming more than a workout. The design needed a re-do, which I gave it, and then David needed to get up off his butt and make his appearance. Because I needed to pick up a nine-hundred-seventy-three pound statue.

So I did.

It was definitely easier to pick him up than it was to lay him down. Though still not easy at all. But it got done. Now to shimmy him into place and call it a day, put the little pots around him and give everybody a good hearty drink. Myself included.

This was tough. I need some epsom salts and Helga to give me a swedish massage.

David looks short (er) now.

Oh, and I found The Lawyer’s missing glasses…….