My backyard looks like "Life Without People"

Thanks to the recent rains and my lack of motivation to cut the grass my yard resembles something out of the History Channel show "Life Without People."
If you're not familiar with the show, it chronicles what the earth would be like after humans are gone. Buildings crumble, bridges fall and trees and foliage take back over their turf.
That's what happened to this one area of my backyard. I say "one area" because it's near a fence, out of the way and ignored by me.
Don't get me wrong, we have all the tools to do the job: riding mower, push mower, access to a weedeater and lots of other gadgets.
A few days ago a decided to do some real yard work in that spot. Pulls weeds, pick up sticks or limbs, that kind of stuff.

I headed to the dreaded spot and began pulling weeds when I noticed the beginnings of a tallow tree. I took out my little hatchet and chopped. And chopped and chopped and chopped. Then I had to dig to find the roots which were everywhere intertwined in the weeds and long grass.
My husband, who knows that when I get an idea in my head there's no use arguing, suggested to use the weedeater or just wait and he'd tackle the project.
No way. This was my project and I was not going to be beat by some weeds and grass.
As I inched my way through the mess it seemed as if time stopped or slowed to a crawl. Sounds became a distant noise, a few birds flew overhead, the flapping of their wings seemed at a snail's pace.
I was getting tired but refused to give up.
Then something happened.
I got to the worst spot of all, maybe about 4 foot by 4 foot in size. I noticed a bright hose on the ground and decided to pull it. That's when I discovered grass and weeds had grown around the hose and would have covered the item if I hadn't rescued it.
I tugged and pulled and felt muscles I didn't know I had - no luck. I had to get back on my hands and knees and pull the stupid weeds from around the hose.
After the hose was recovered I found a thin, lightweight piece of vinyl siding next to the house. This too was nearly overgrown.
I pulled once again and the vinyl moved a bit. Proud of my tenacity, I gave it one big tug. The piece came loose causing the short end near my arm to move violently upwards and slap the tender part under my arm. I still don't know exactly how it happened but I have a lovely black and purple bruise to prove it.
There's a lesson in this story; either do your yard work when it's needed or wait for someone else to do it.
I may wait next time.
Mary Meaux