THE reason why I'm constantly accused of being dedicated to pruning is because it is true.
And I'm proud of my addiction.
Just the same, I'm not the only one.
Wander around any suburb where there are plenty of gardens and apart from bird calls and an occasional mower, there is just a pleasant, soothing snip-snip sound echoing through the trees, shrubs and roses.
It is the sound of happy, contented gardeners, grooming shrubs, dead-heading roses and cutting off all the dead bits.
And right now, as our gardens emerge from a particularly intense spring flowering, the snipping has become almost continuous.
No good gardener would venture forth without a good pair of secateurs in a back pocket.
Actually, most women gardeners are more intelligent than blokes.
They carry their garden tools - including secateurs - in a wheelbarrow so they can also collect the debris.
Blokes are a bit more dangerous in the garden than women, especially if armed with pruning saws and powerful branch-cutters.
They never stop trying to prove their manhood by treating even slightly over-grown trees or shrubs as challenging competitors.
Uncontrolled, blokes can go berserk, happily lopping back anything that grows above their heads.
It's true - I ought to know.
Last week my wife, Tina, asked me to trim the branches of an old flowering plum tree that had started to overhang her precious perennial and shrub border.
In truth, I heard this pathetic sawing sound and found her reaching up and trying to saw off a small branch with a rusty old pruning saw.
It was one I'd discarded years ago.
Gently I prised it from her, got rid of it and came back with my brand new, very sharp pruning saw.
I had been dying to use it. In seconds I had contemptuously whipped off the offending branch at high speed.
That's when the troubles began.
Another, higher branch then leaned down and neatly filled the gap.
So I cut that off too.
Within minutes several lanky, upwards-reaching branches that were now no longer supported, began to droop down too.
At this stage most women would have happily walked away to do something useful.
Not me mate. I was now into spring lopping mode and went to find my chainsaw.
Tina fled.
Every outer branch was rapidly sliced off - even the big ones.
I was so happy.
Unfortunately I didn't notice my boots trampling over a large bed of hardy cyclamens, or that a fallen branch had collapsed over a rather lovely white-flowered Chinese lantern and a straggly mollis azalea.
So I did a bit of quick, guilty snipping and hid the evidence.
Then I glanced briefly at what was left of the old flowering plum.
It looked silly. Just two remaining branches went high in the air and to be honest seemed very naked and vulnerable.
I instinctively reached for my chainsaw again. Might as well finish the job for safety's sake of course.
So I took the rest off, cutting the trunk flush with the ground.
Can I explain that the old tree was an aggressive chance seedling and the roots had been a nuisance for decades.
Anyway, when Tina came back and saw the huge open space she looked strangely shocked.
I've cut some lovely firewood, I said.
Without speaking, she reverently laid a circle of coloured pebbles on what was left of the stump.
I'll never understand women.
By the way, has anyone seen my chainsaw? It seems to have disappeared.
