Ding, Dong the Witch is Dead

When I think of a crape myrtle, my mind visualizes something like this:

Small. Pretty. Manageable. Contained.

But at our house, we have a crape myrtle that's been on the Juice. I'm thinking about calling a Senate hearing on the topic. Look at this monster:

And a view from the street:

I hate it with every morsel of my being. Spring through summer it blooms, late summer through fall its buds fall, fall through winter it loses its leaves and year-round I'm losing my mind. If there were ever two entities that should not co-exist in a backyard, it's a swimming pool and a gigantor crape myrtle. We have pool parties just so other people will skim the pool. And nothing ruins a delicious glass of sangria like a light breeze and a million buds falling in your drink. Enough is enough.

Now, if you're a nature lover and think trees and pools and people can all share the planet, then please stop reading here.

This weekend, I left the house to run a few errands and when I came back about two hours later, the crape myrtle was chopped up into little pieces on the front curb. Fortunately, Ty chronicled the entire process.

I have no idea how any of this works, but I'm glad I wasn't home because this makes me very nervous. Jerry, who works for Ty, cut down trees for 20-plus years in his previous job.

This was about the point where Ty started contemplating keeping the tree. Then he thought about all the hours we've spent skimming only to find buds in our sangria, and he quickly snapped out of it. We want our lives back!

I'm not sure what happens when you get to the top.

And what happens at this point? How do you get down?

I don't have a final picture, but all that's left is a stump. The tree is gone and our pool is clean! And hopefully by next summer, we'll have a beautiful pergola built, with tons of room for entertaining. Doesn't that sound more fun than skimming?