There has always seemed something particularly solid about a tree, even a young one. The crabapple we planted seven years ago seemed so . . . permanent, somehow . . . that sifting it seemed impossible.
But the impossible happened, thanks to John and Sam, imperturbable movers and shakers of anything (so far as we can tell!) in a garden.
Shrubs? Out. Vines? Trimmed. Crabapple? Shifted (thereby protecting our annual ritual of making crabapple gin. Hooray!). Amazing.
Next step: Bring on the shepherd’s hut!