Sawing. Clipping. Raking. Sweeping. Pushing dried limbs, branches, vines, leaves, and seed pods into plastic bags. That's how I spent most of my afternoon.
It wasn't what I had planned. When the Husband and I left this morning to do the errands, the Mama was reading the newspaper in the living room. Ninety minutes later, I looked out the back door to see a high limb on the miracle tree precariously hanging above the Mama, who sat beside the tall ladder, stripping dried leaves from skinny branches into her bucket.
I was furious. One, the Mama had been up the ladder. And, two, I had asked her the other day, after cutting back her banana trees, if she'd like me to prune the rest of the miracle tree. "No," she said. "The green (recycle) can is already full." Good, I thought, I'd prune the tree next Thursday. Ha!
"You know we don't like you on the ladder," I growled, throwing my purse on the ground, and hurriedly climbing the ladder to saw off the limb. I proceeded to cut away at whatever else I could reach. Knowing that I was annoyed, the Mama toddled into the house when I asked her to take her medicine. Peace finally reached my head and I went into the house to put some groceries away and change my clothes.
About ten minutes after I was back on the ladder, the Husband came out to help. He took over pruning the tree, while I stripped the branches of seed pods and cut them into pieces that would eventually fit the green can.
"Why did you do this?" I asked the Mama, after reminding her that she didn't want me to finish pruning the tree yet.
"I didn't want you to work so hard," the 93-year-old woman said.