edward scissorhands...

He's standing in the street critiquing his late afternoon project with the eye of a career artist. A self-commissioned piece he sculptured out of our four-year old lilac tree. I sit on the porch wrapped in a towel- borderline goose bumps as the breeze hits my half-dry suit, and feel a tinge and only a tinge bit guilty that he’s working up a sweat in the front yard. “Now I got something done today” he tells me as he walks to the porch to unplug the shears that have extended his hands over the past couple weekends, and shaped the unruly summer growth of our landscape. That tinge again. I blog and he sweeps the fallout. He fluffs the tree and gives it one last look before he catches me watching. “Now I can go take my shower and relax.”

“So, Edward. Did you have a productive day?”