Now that most of the plants are up and blooming, it's time to start work on the garden.

On Sunday, Himself took a pruning saw to the wildly overgrown forsythia, cutting the whole thing down to knee level; I doubt that it had received any attention in this century, and most of the lower branches were dry and leafless. That done, my eye started roving over the Hungarian lilac beside the garage (two stories tall and half leafless), the Manitoba maple sprouting into the middle of a dogwood, and the profusion of nameless shrubbery masking the gas meter. I think I can deal with the shrubbery myself, but the five ratty-looking cedars and our four enormous maple trees are a different matter.

The cedars probably started out as ornamental shrubs but, after 20 years of neglect, they block too much sunlight from the garden and the house, and they just look overgrown, underfed and thirsty. The maples are beautiful, but two of them overhang our neighbour's house, making him nervous. "Don't you think they're a bit ... um, you know, big?" he asked the other day. We get major wind storms here, so I think he might have a point; if a big limb came down on his humble bungalow, it would be a big mess for him and an expensive liability for us. Also, whenever I look out the bathroom window, I note the scatter of leaves and twigs on his roof and wonder if his attic has been invaded yet by the resident squirrels. I often seen them scampering along his eavestrough.

So an arborist is booked for a house call next week. His website has lots of photos of him up in trees even bigger than ours, so he should be capable of easing the worries next door.

Speaking of the neighbour, he's planting lettuces in his garden -- right next to the cedar hedge that covers the entrance to what must be a major rabbit warren, judging from the bunny traffic across our deck last winter. If ol' Brad gets more than one salad for his efforts, I'll be very surprised.