Beneath the surface

I didn’t know what I was doing the first time I pruned the fig tree in our yard. I approached it like a sculpture where you just cut away branches until it looks good. Of course, within weeks my mistake was obvious as the new growth exploded out of the branches chaotically, like teenagers flying out the doors and windows when the police arrive at a house party. When my father-in-law, who grew up on a farm in Italy, saw the mess, he joked: “See if the police can catch the guy who did that to your trees.”

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