The article reflects on the symbolism of a dying privet hedge that separates two gardens, one well-maintained by neighbor Marianne and one overgrown by the narrator. Initially dismissing the hedge's deterioration, a confrontation ensues, catalyzing its eventual removal. This action opens the space between their gardens, allowing for a reflective moment on privacy and maintenance. As the gardens merge, the narrator and his wife are left contemplating their next steps, unsure of how to establish a new boundary that acknowledges their shared space.
The tall privet hedge that marked our boundary with Marianne's garden started to die, highlighting the contrast between her neatness and our overgrown yard.
Marianne and I had a difficult conversation about the hedge's decline, which had now become impossible to ignore as it was no longer bouncing back.
Removing the hedge revealed a shocking openness between our two gardens, prompting reflections on how now there was so much more light and space.
We contemplated the need for a new boundary, as we stood in the open space of our combined front gardens, unsure of what to do next.
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