We got some workmen in a few weeks ago to trim the hedges.
Generally they did a fairly underwhelming job, just tidying things up rather than going hard and hacking back several years worth of overgrowth. Unfortunately, there’s one patch that they’ve been inexplicably thorough on – the two metre stretch that separates our neighbour’s prized vege garden and the area we like to sit on our front deck.
I was out there the other day relaxing with a glass of wine and a book, enjoying the sunset and some ‘me’ time, when our neighbour poked her head over the fence and spoke to me through the newly thinned hedge. “Your gardeners have done a terrific job here! So nice to be able to see you and have a chat, rather than be hidden away!”
”yes, lovely!” I said, through gritted teeth. They say the difference between a good and a bad haircut is two weeks, I wonder what the equivalent time is for shrubbery?