Earlier this summer, or even earlier, I was called upon by my neighbour two doors west, the Widow Voellm, to help with her plum. This was the same plum her recently-deceased husband fell out of 28 years earlier, though the tree was under eight feet back then, not eighteen.
With one foot wedged in the tree's "V" and the other on the ladder, I'd call out, "What about this limb, Jane?" and from her garden lounger below, binoculars in hand, she would more often than not call back, "Off with it!" By the time we were done, I thought we'd taken off too much, but Jane reminded me that the dead stuff doesn't apply when it comes to the never-more-than-one-third rule.
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