Fiction | October 08, 2011

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I was struggling with an overgrown border when Sarah’s phone call came. Spring was already galloping ahead. I was heaving out my favourite perennials, pulling them free of the worst of the weeds and dumping them in a heap on the mossy grass. Once this was done, I’d break off anything that was salvageable, heel it into some corner, weed-kill the jungle, then replant. Blitz gardening.

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