This beauty has suddenly appeared just the other side of our boundary wall. I’m not sure what it’s called. The garden belongs to Monique, Philippe’s sister. She is divorced although currently dating Joel, an architect from Bergerac. Philippe doesn’t approve and thinks Joel is too old for his sister.
Monique is petite and possesses that chicness that only French women seem to achieve so effortlessly. I couldn’t be chic if my life depended on it. She also has the stamina of an ox. Her garden is quite large but she keeps it immaculate. She perches on her tractor mower and trundles up and down cutting the grass, she dons boots and apron and effortlessly wields her industrial sized strimmer (it makes my cordless model look like a child’s toy). But what amuses me is when she uses her rotary petrol mower to do the grass edges. The handle is higher than Monique’s head and she has to stretch her arms to grip it. She looks like a child using her Dad’s mower. I must remember to take a photo of her next time.
Today I trimmed the Yew Tree on top of my folly. I took great care but it still looks a little lop sided. Philippe loves hedges. He has planted box hedges all around his house and along his driveway and spends hours trimming them precisely. He has even shaped little balls along the top. If he says anything rude about my Yew Tree I shall take my shears and cut his balls off.