And there are hardly any apples on the Bramley any more. The eaters are Worcester Pearmains. Why is it that the best are out of reach?
Though...I could surely reach forward and take... that one...
The silver birch is thought to be at least as old as the house itself, which dates back to the 'thirties. Looking up, it seems like the back of a woman, with neck bent forward and arms stretched to the sky.
This is the boundary of the garden, I am outside, looking back.
Not more than twenty paces, and I look back again. The house and garden are completely obscured.
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