Urban Harvest

They came yesterday. The blinds were closed so I couldn’t see them.

I was once a forester, so the sound of a saw dissecting a tree is familiar and doesn’t tend to grate on me as it might for others. But yesterday that familiar sound tore at me, forcing me off the couch. I peered between two venetian slats and there they were. Two men, clad in high-vis. Sawing branches from the Plum trees on my nature strip

Now, back on the couch, blinds open this time, I hear nothing but the steady roll of traffic into town. And I smile. The trees are still there. They’ve been harshly pruned.

There are still enough plums to make jam.

Urban Harvest

Domenica

Bathurst, Australia

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Artwork Comments

  • Anne van Alkemade
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