There have been to many leaves in our garden. Trees have grown, branches have spread, a consumation of a perfect growing season; warm and wet.
We have been watching these encroaching leaves, at first with greeting, then with foreboding. Another year was turning. Another summer beginning to disappear. Summers should last forever, the way they were dreamt of when we were young.
The washing was not drying. Too much shade. Too much canopy.
This morning I thought that it would be a good idea to set about pruning. With saw and clippers I set about the unwanted branches, traced the spots wher I cut back a year before, and stopped the summer growth. Light flooded in, the grass rejoiced, my wife’s smalls danced on the line.
Sometimes we have to cut back to give space for new growth.