Thirty-one years and still we prune


For years you pruned the wild saskatoons that grew up the lane by the cottage,
while I carted the blighted branches, their leaves curled and black, to the fire pit.

Spring after spring passed and you widened the circles against decay.
Sparrows followed you, the squirrels watched and the frogs across the road sang.

And then it came,
up through the cuttings, new growth pushing through.

Thirty-one years and still we prune, don’t we love.  Sure
we’ve lost some, but many survived, and many bear fruit, much of it sweet.

Happy Anniversary Deb.


  1. Sixty-one years of cuttings and still some new growth. Some of Father Time’s and Mother Earth’s fruit is sweet and some a bit tart, yet tender new growth.
    Thanks for this reminder of the poetry of life.

  2. as long as you two don,t turn into prunes , you both have nothing to worry about ,, so keep on pruning ,, best wishes for many more years ,,,
    Phil and Chryss

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *