John is so funny. I asked him yesterday what he would like to do to celebrate Father's day already assuming that he'd be raking in the kids' presents and phone calls and cards.
Which he did. Daughter#1 sent STEAK. She knows her daddy well, doesn't she?
John decided that there was nothing he'd rather do on his special day than grab a shovel and a pick to do battle with his latest back yard nemesis: the dreaded cherry tree roots.
Um, OK dear. Whatever floats your boat, honey.
We took out a cherry tree from our back yard last year since the tree just wasn't producing many cherries and the tree didn't appear to be healthy. So John chopped it down while making George Washington puns, dug out the stump, and that was that.
We thought.
But even though the tree was sickly, the remaining underground roots apparently were extremely healthy because this year we ended up with a zillion baby cherry tree sprouts appearing right where we wanted to plant more blueberries. So John declared war on the pesky roots, and happily attacked them in his version of a relaxing Father's Day afternoon.
Wow. Get a load of the size of those roots!
I assumed my usual supervisory role.
I'm sure he couldn't have won the cherry tree root war without my help.
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