Our old acacia tree outside my study window has the faded glory of an elderly ballerina. Her form and stature are stunning; her few feeble limbs reveal their age. This week is her annual triumph, a single ringing ovation in the year that keeps her spirit alive. Her flowers are a delicate and pure white; and where they still flourish, they attract such numbers of adoring insects that the courtyard itself is almost vibrating in accord with the thousands upon thousands of busy wings.
Today, our grand old lady is having an operation. One of the largest old branches has become dangerous and our neighbour 'bunny' is coming down shortly to help me remove it before it falls. Wish us all luck, especially our dame.
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1 comment:
Wot a load of pretentious tosh!
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