Mrs. B's definition: Rhododendron: a word I can't spell and a plant I have quickly grown to despise.
This weekend marked the great battle of the rhodie in the front yard. From day one at The Anniversary Home, the rhodie in the front yard has been my arch-nemisis. Words can't describe how much I hated this plant. Honest to golly, the thing is probably 40 years old and has NEVER been cut back or pruned. For a while, I imagined with a little tlc, I could get the rhodie to look like this:
But this was the reality:
Holy hell. My blood pressure is through the roof just looking at it. Could it be any uglier? And for those haters out there who might think: "Oh, but when it blooms it will be so beautiful." Au contraire my friends. It doesn't bloom. Well maybe like three blooms, but the thing is DEAD.
So we started hacking away, literally. Mr. B took the big scissors and I took the small scissors and we went for it.
At some point, Mr. B., who in his madness and anger at the rhodie, temporarily forgot about the mulitple skiing injuries which continue to ail his lower back. As you can probably guess, there were a few choice swear words and by the time I figured out what happened, he had already assumed the "I'm standing up straight but I'm really leaning to the left in agony" position.
And then there was one.
We battled on for the rest of the afternoon (well, mostly me, if I may say so) and when it was all said and done, we had somewhat conquered the rhodie.
So upside, we now have natural light in the living room in the afternoon. Downside? Geeze, those windows are ugly. Must figure out way to disguise. Off to the nursery this week for shubbery tutorial 101.
You'll all be relieved to know that our aspirations to defeat the rhodie on our own have faded...I wised up and called the local tree removal service. They'll have it removed by the end of the week.