Handsaw Massacre

I should've known Hubby was in that sort of mood this weekend.
On Friday night I had to convince him not to shave his head to a number one - because it would look like number twos.

Then Saturday the sun shone.
It was glorious. Divine. Euphoric.
But it was also illuminating.
As in - shining light on just how neglected our poor 'great outdoors' were.

I was tempted to ring the bank and complain.
I mean, they own a great proportion of this property and where are they when there's maintainence and gardening to be done?
The only interest they take in their investment is the one debited from our account on a monthly basis.

So, we discussed the day's tasks - pruning, weeding, sweeping...
Then I turned my back to indulge in a little wild laundry action and returned to this :

 

I'm no gardening guru but I'm pretty sure there's an art to pruning.

This isn't indicative of any style I've ever been exposed to.

Hubby likes to title these pieces 'The Bare Essentials'.

I prefer 'What The Hell Have You Done?'

The man went on a rampage. Edward Scissorhands style.
Nothing was safe.
(Slightly reminiscent of me (over) decorating cakes, if I'm honest.)
We provided large cuttings for two different neighbours, a neighbour's friend, Hubby's parents and still filled a trailer to capacity.

I'll be lucky to have survive the weekend without a Sinead O'Connor-esque do myself.

On the upside, Hubby did inadvertently remind me to make that beautician appointment that has been slipping my mind all week.

Shar :-)