(for example, there is an avenue of trees that conceals the hut where we keep the firewood)
ฝand tended it through countless winters and springs. When I moved into the old mill - where I spend a few months of each year - the lawn was immaculate. Now it is up to me to continue that work, although the philosophical question remains: should I respect the work of the creator, of the gardener, or should I accept the survival instinct with which nature endowed this plant, which I now call a 'weed'?