Gemotions

The afternoon sun was hot. Mr. Davies, breathing heavily, stood at the property line, his face a mask of concern. He waved a gloved hand at the towering birch that grew between their houses.

"The roots," he huffed, gesturing towards the cracked pavement. "They’re a problem. And the bark… the sap…"

I found myself wanting to help him, to relieve his worry. I pictured him bending and struggling to maintain his garden.

"Let's get this handled," I told him, already reaching for my phone. "How about I get some tree root barrier put in? That will protect your pavement. And the sap... Let's have a look at that tree. Maybe we can get some of it off. No cost to you, Mr. Davies."