Last year, my left hip was replaced, so little to no pruning was done in the front right garden, which the wild took over this year.
I planted this spring but did not consider what a few seasons without pruning the pear, apple, and grapes might have on the final result. Then I lost control. As any gardener will tell you, look away in late June and early July, and nature will run riot in your garden. The newspaper will send out their gardening columnist to feature your garden in an article on what not to do with a garden.
So there I was in September, and here I am in early October, trying to clear the mess before I have tons of leaves to process in the mulcher. You know one thing at a time? I’ve filled five large paper garden waste bags with clipped branches, put aside sawn limbs, and pulled thousands of healthy weeds. A friend made a jibe about penetrating the Heart of Darkness. I was not amused at this completely gratuitous Conrad reference. When they saw me advancing with a pruning saw held high, they insisted that I had misconstrued their meaning. I grumbled that I’d construed it just fine, and they could either put on some work gloves and help or leave. Shopping for a fall wardrobe with the spouse was vastly more appealing and a pressing need.
So here I am, looking over some of the limbs of pear and apple, trying to estimate if they’ll make attractive hair pins, spurtles, and other carved items when drier. They are not large enough for spoons. This, unfortunately, puts me in mind of my shop, where some thick, wide portions of cherry call out to be carved into bowls. Then there is the eagle I started in the spring that needs its head carved before I can do the feathers and the forty or so spoon blanks, cutting boards, and other backlogged stuff.
Yeah, sure! One thing at a time. Right!