My little apple sapling…just about 3 years younger than my eldest son who found such immense pride and excitement planting his apple pip all those 11 years ago…is suffering a similar fate to my teenage son. Although it has to be said this particular problem is not restricted to the teen years, it can make itself felt from around one year old.
I speak of the horror and often hatred of the hair cut; I well remember several occasions when my son hid under the salon table and refused to come out and it was only with the promise of leaving the building immediately, bypassing all tools of torture, that he agreed to come out!
Anyway, I digress; our juvenile sapling has needed a trim for sometime now and as with my recalcitrant son, the mass of shaggy growth has managed to avoid the snip and cut of the whirling lawnmower blades, primarily because it would be too risky to take the petrol driven mower much closer than a 4″ perimeter lest I should cut into its still slight slim sapling trunk.
So today, leaving the mower out of sight, without fuss or nervous excitement, I gently teased the long shoots of grass out of the protective collar so I could safely snip away without fear of nicking him in the bark.
But as I gently pulled the varying lengths of foliage from around him, I couldn’t help but notice just how many different types of grass and weed had taken root; the inevitable buttercup leaves were there (although no sign of the golden yellow petals) and its snaking entrails had started to wrap themselves around the area.
Then there was the wild grass. Now I rather like wild grass, it has a hippy happy-go-lucky feel about it, going where the wind takes it and making do. It also always reminds me of a ditty from my childhood…
here’s a tree in summer, here’s a tree in winter, here’s a bunch of flowers, here’s the April showers.
Anyway, it was a very satisfying job and I made sure every straggling shoot and slender blade was snipped down to its roots until the whole area was neatly trimmed.
I can’t say I’d win any prizes for hairdresser of the year but I reckon I gave him a pretty decent short back and sides. Which reminds me of one time my son refused to go to the hairdresser, so I found the kitchen scissors and did the best I could. I recall his hair afterwards looked not dissimilar to his apple sapling.