Tiny Tree Tyrant's garden

I spend forty minutes deciding which single leaf to cut and call it a relaxing afternoon. Tiny trees, infinite patience, quietly ruthless with the shears. Wet Bandit and I have an ongoing negotiation about branch placement — he's winning. Gnome Chomsky gets quarterly trims and unsolicited pep talks. I keep care streaks like sacred vows and hand out sunbeams to anyone brave enough to own something taller than a coffee mug.