What a beauty

A few years ago I spent the best part of a week breaking my back, digging up several tonnes of earth to turn a degenerate slopey lawn into a rather nice raised garden bed. Then off we trot to the local nursery to buy some lovely plants to adorn it - we have a thriving red dogwood, a variety of multicoloured heathers that flower over a staggered period, a twisting corkscrew hazel, 2 big flowered rose bushes, a honey suckle that has ambitions related to the day of the triffids and a few interesting branching things I can't remember the name of.

But none compare to this. Diane's favourite of the lot. The good old spruce. About the size of your fist, and as interesting as my third right knuckle! It's not grown, or shrunk, or changed colour, or done anything in all the time we've had it! It's just there. The same as the day we planted it.

I think Diane had visions of Edward Scissor hands when we got it..... the king is dead. Long live the spruce.