Six weeks have passed since I gently slipped my willow cuttings into WeeHavyn's steep and rocky hillside, dreaming of a lacy fence of intricately twined branches. During the cool, damp days of Spring, buds swelled and leaves burst forth with green promise. But as Spring gave way to the dog days of Summer, tiny branches began to wither and brown and the supple green of the cuttings turned to stiff mahogany. Twig and foliage had grown too fast, sucking sustenance from the cutting before roots could burrow and feed.
Yet there is Hope. A few of the cuttings bravely push their supple arms to the sky and promise me their eager children for next year. I will have my fence yet provided I continue to water my intrepid little trees through the dry heat of July and August while they take on the quiet task of weaving themselves into the fabric of WeeHavyn.