While Drew and I were in our back yard last night weeding, raking, and digging out some day lilies that pretty much took over our yard, my husband decided that it was time to take out a couple tree's that were VERY unwanted.
Since our house sat vacant for about two years, there was a lot of uncared for, and unwanted growth of many things that had just sprouted up from seedlings... a group of trees in particular. There was about 6 of them that were all clumped together trying to out-grow the other one while taking part of our fence with them. Yes, it was time. So, my Husband (aka Rambo) took them all down. On the last one, as he was hacking away with a hatchet and a pair of beefy pruning sheers (no, not at the same time) his super buff and studly arms broke our really-intense-no-nonsense-we-mean-business pair of pruning shears. I stared in awe as he pulled the shears out of the tree while part of the blade was still in the branch.
I thought that this meant that our time in the backyard was finished. What else could we do about this tree if the main tool we were using just broke because my husband is so strong? Well... Drew was not finished yet. He was wearing a very studly t-shirt that had the arms cut off (heavy sarcasm about the studly t-shirt), but had he been wearing longer sleeves he would have rolled them up, clapped his hands, and swung his arms back a forth a few times right before he took the tree down with his bare hands. Yes... his bare hands.
That's right. I married Rambo. Here's a picture to prove it:
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