Twenty-five years ago the neighbour to our west planted a false cypress at the southeast corner of his property. Over the years the shrub grew up to become what some might call a "feature". But the new neighbours had other plans, which was fine because those plans included an arbutus, and that, though technically a vine, is my favourite tree.
For a few days the dug-out false cypress lay on the boulevard, awaiting a Facebook reader to come by and take it. When there were no takers, we took it, planting it in a space taken up by a juniper, which in turn was moved to the bank of heathers below.
Last week I was returning from a walk to Trout Lake when I noticed the false cypress looked like a bird (baby ostrich?) pecking at the earth. A snip here, a snip there -- even more so! My snipping in no way makes this a work of topiary, because the bird was already there when I noticed it. All I did was return it to the earth, take a sprig off here and there.
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