Pruned

This fearsome implement, which has made me feel rather like a character from Monkey as I have stumped up the rain-streaming garden steps with it over the last few weeks, is my long-handled pruning saw, and it has made possible my winter campaign of inflicting discipline on the garden. I started the process way back in November (I think - my memories are dim on this point), working around the front of the house, the beds either side of it, and up the slope to the east before hacking at the ivy, the bay tree, and the laurels, uprooting any brambles wherever I find them. I have found it hard to credit, fighting my way through a straggling, overgrown laurel bush in wind and rain and struggling to get a purchase with the saw on a towering overmighty stalk which is an inch or two too far away to reach with any comfort, how the twigs can find their way into my eyes, ears, and even up my nose, with such painful and maddening regularity.

But as of a couple of days ago, the Great Prune is DONE. I hope that with a bit of foresight I'll be able to keep on top of things in years to come and not have to engage in quite so extensive a process of horticultural cleansing again.

Some hope.