Jackson and the Rose

I didn't get home until kind of late, as it was my last day for the week and everything had to be done before I left.

We cut the rose down, Jackson and I. Jackson had called me yesterday about it hanging over into the laneway, potentially, blocking people's way. I had notice what it was doing that morning. Jackson said he’d have a go at it.

When I got home, he’d tied five, or so, white ropes to it, which he’d thrown over the fence for me to secure to something on the other side. I had told him that the whole idea of the rose was for it to grow up the outside of the wall and then fall over the top, cascading with roses down my wall on the inside. However, with the ropes it looked like sail rigging and I wasn’t going to live with that coming over the fence, no sir.

So we cut it back heavily.

Chop, chop.

I like Jackson, he's the mad professor type. He said he had a drill and we can drill the wall and secure the rose properly. Good idea, I must take him up on that. Again, I chastise myself for giving my drill to Mark. Stupid me, what was I thinking. Idiot!

If I didn't give my drill away, I wouldn't have had to chop the rose down.