Lily
THE HEDGE CLIPPERS handles cut into my palms as I worked the dead branch between them before hearing the satisfying crunch. If I was going to do this outdoor garden thing, I needed to get a better pair of gloves rather than the cheap fabric ones I found in the back of the shop.
Two small ornamental shrub tree things sat outside the plant shop. I learned from an official letter from the city that it was my job to keep them trimmed—something they believed I hadn’t done in a timely enough fashion.
Because I’d never done it.
And from the looks of the battered shrubbery, neither had my grandmother.
After a quick internet search, I learned the bushes needed a trim before the first snow or else I’d damage the trees. Rather than risk a penalty from the city, which I had no way to pay, I grabbed the old pair of hedge clippers and gave it my best work.
It seemed monumentally easier in my head.