For most of a week, two of the plants around my front porch were badly trimmed lumps.

The azalea, second of two, and the previously 10-foot-tall pine shrub thing, were all that remained of my anniversary gift task.

It had been five days since I started the project and my anniversary was now in the past, so I once again gathered up the tools. Dirt was flying soon after.

Did I mention that I gave blood, a donation of two units of red blood cells, only two days before this venture? No? I didn’t think of it while I was excavating, either, but I sure can use it as an excuse for how many times I needed breaks.

The pick had served me well before and I eschewed both of the shovels in its favor. The azalea had lots of little roots. I could hear them ripping each time I tried to remove the pick from the ground at a spot close to the center of the plant. Once in a while I couldn’t get the pick out that way and had to back out. My pick accuracy is limited, so I had to use shovels to cut some of the mid-size roots. I discovered that a sledge hammer has less need for accuracy and is a quite satisfying way to break larger roots.

This was all going very well. I would dig for a couple minutes, with plenty of recovery time between each swing of the pick, then I would sit on the edge of the porch and drink some water for several minutes.

I was dripping with sweat immediately. Cleaning my glasses frequently was both necessary and a good excuse for more break time.

Dirt was flying about, sometimes landing on my head.

I had moved, but not really removed, the stones that define the edge of the landscaping. After my fingers ended up inches from one stone after a particularly zealous swing of the pick, I made sure they were out of the way.

But the plant wasn’t giving up. I’ll bet I spent an hour (so maybe 15 minutes of actual work) trying to convince that plant to die before I actually got anywhere.

What finally worked was something I discovered while taking a break.

I felt like I was working if I used my feet to push on the plant while I was sitting down, resting, and getting a drink. Shortly after that first hour, I pushed and the azalea moved.

Revitalized, I attacked the base of the thing with the pick. It was disturbing when the handle bounced off the thicker wood at the core of the azalea, but the pointy metal thing was already in the dirt by then, so there was no significant danger to the operator.

I had developed and broken various blisters. Trying to grasp the pick loosely to make my hands feel better was another bad choice. Several times the pick slipped out of my hands just before it struck home. There were no scenes from Thor, but there could have been.

The sit-and-push method worked better each time I took a break and soon enough I shoved shovels into the gap and ripped up all but the largest roots.

The primary trunk of the plant was about four inches in diameter. The main root did not extend far at that size, thankfully.

When it was finally loose, I picked it up (a lot heavier than I expected) and used a hammer-throw technique to launch it across the lawn – maybe 5 feet.

The pine thing was easier to remove. Regularly utilizing the sit-and-push, I had that dug up in a little over an hour.

I took the tools to the shed. I did my best Tusken Raider imitation and raised the shovel over my head in both hands and shook it up and down. (I actually did this. It was a big deal for me.) I didn’t try to make the Tusken Raider sound.

My hands were messed up, I had scratches of varying severity on all four limbs – though none on my head and neck, I had a pretty good gouge in my foot from when the cut trunk of a maple sapling I’d cut a week before slipped through the gaping hole in my shoe, my clothes weighed a lot more than they should have, and I was just plum worn out.

I took off my shoes and slumped down on the front steps.

My wife walked out of the house moments later. I was kind of hoping she was bringing me a glass of water. Instead, she handed me the phone. “Hello?”

Jon, who had apparently been speaking to her about my labors and how tired I was, said, joyfully, “Column!”

Then, he told me he needed me to come in to work for a couple minutes.

I’ve heard of adding insult to injury, but piling on work was a new twist.