The past week has seen soft rain, filtered sunlight and quiet enjoyment. Yes, quiet. Birds instead of building work. What a waste to have filled the minutes leading up to this week with dread of what it might hold.
The unexpected reprieve has brought crimson rosellas and wood pigeons into this tiny back yard, while I’ve been taking stock of some hard decisions that lie ahead.
Flowers still fall from the outstretched limbs of the frangipani but the tree has grown so large and so lopsided that I fear its weighty branches might one day break. I hate pruning. It seems so counter productive to cut back anything green when we’re surrounded by concrete.
Yet I know it works. Without a hard prune the climbing rose would have succumbed to black spot, and look at it now. The only thing that saved the viburnum was an equally vicious chop. The pest attack was…
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