Cleaning up the bits and pieces.
Having manipulated the same Non-Gardening Partner for over twenty five years, you'd think I'd know all the tricks. But I am not very successful. When he hears my sweet voice he senses trouble and (wisely) switches off. This man recognises a nag in disguise, so to speak...
My sweetest of sweet voices...
But, wonder of wonders, yesterday was the exception. In my sweetest of sweet voices I'd mentioned the dead tree overlooking the pond, then wandered off with my wheelbarrow to weed by the pergola. I'd dug out dock weeds, uncovered and replanted what I think were Trilliums, and then - aargh! A sound to gladden my heart! I heard the chainsaw.
Aargh! NGP, dressed in protective gear, was busy dismantling the dead tree. Zoomed inside to get camera, then reported for duty. Shifted gnomes out of harm's way, piled up branches, raked up mess, threw firewood logs into a heap. Wow, NGP. I'm sorry I ever doubted your hearing!
Down comes the tree
Today I've done lots of trundling, bringing barrow loads of firewood over to the house. I've raked the pond-side path clear and cut out two waterside cutty grasses - very pretty, these, but awful for hands and legs. Also one Phormium tenax was squashed flat, so I dug it out as well. I've cleaned up most of the branch mess.
Remains of Dead Tree
Since this wood has been dead for a while, all the logs are stacked outside the back door. Now if the autumn weather turns cold (and it will) I've got firewood for three weeks. Just like that!
I've been waiting patiently for this tree to come down for over five years. I've hinted, I've even asked in a serious tone. I guess I might have nagged a bit, too. Then all of a sudden, without warning... Something to do with the lockdown? I'm stumped - hee hee!