My own personal wasteland

My wife and I boldly entered the rapidly-sinking world of home ownership in January which means that I was forced to re-enter the world of yard work for the first time since I was trying to scrape up few bucks during summer vacations in high school and middle school doing odd jobs.
So far we've used our black thumbs to take the front lawn from lush life to near death to something in between and we've taken the back yard from weed-infested nightmare to suburban dust bowl.
The yards were were left to rot during foreclosure before we came along and the process of stripping them down in the hopes of building them up again has fallen onto my shoulders.
In the process I've found my arch enemy: The palm tree.
The Venom to my Spider-Man, the Joker to my Batman, the Betty to my Veronica, the palm tree exists to torture my soul and wreak havoc in my world. 
I have no idea what the previous owners were thinking, but for some reason they planted a palm tree right next to the retaining wall in the back yard.
The photos show my enemy's evolution from thriving tropical tree to stubborn chunk of wood over the past few months.
Chopping off all the fronds seemed like a good idea to start guiding the palm tree down the path to death shortly after the first photo was taken.
But the tree refused to die.
Digging out as much dirt as possible and cutting through roots seemed like an equally good idea to push the palm tree toward the light. 
But the tree refused to die.
Hitting the base of the bastard plant with bucket after bucket of root killer seemed like an inspired way to cut right to the heart of the beast and kill it.
But the tree still refused to die.
In fact, palm fronds kept erupting from the darned thing no matter what I did.  Chopped fronds, hacked roots, a dug-out foundation and bucket after bucket of poison couldn't stop this thing from living, from continuing to grow.
My enemy, the palm tree, has proven itself to be the Rasputin of the gardening world.
This afternoon I finally cut off it's head.
I drilled holes in the exposed trunk and poured a ton of poisonous junk from the garage into the holes.  I followed that up with a couple of buckets of root killer.
We'll see how my enemy is doing in a couple of weeks. 
Eventually Rasputin died and this palm tree is going to follow him to the grave one way or another.

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