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Updated: September 8, 2025
At last Madame Prune appears to open the door to us, only half awake and much astonished; by way of a nightcap she wears a monstrous cotton turban, on the blue ground of which a few white storks are playfully disporting themselves.
Prune the vines in the fall or early winter, and make the cuttings as soon as convenient; for if the wood is not kept perfectly fresh and green, the cuttings will fail to grow.
Uncover bushes, prune, and have the winter mulch thoroughly dug in. Place stakes in the centre of bushes that you know from experience will need them. Re-tie climbers that have broken away from supports, but not too tightly; let some sprays swing and arch in their own way. May.
"Why have you never tried to be one?" "I hardly know. Perhaps in my inmost being I feel I never could be. I am too impulsive, too unrestrained, too shapeless in mind. If I wrote a book it might be interesting, human, heart-felt, true to life, I hope, not stupid, I believe; but it would be a chaos. You how it would shock your critical mind! I could never select and prune and blend and graft.
The vineyard may thus be made to pay expenses, and furnish the vines for further plantations the first year. They are taken up and divided in the fall, as directed in the chapter for layers. In the fall, prune the vine to three buds, if strong enough, to one or two if it has only made a weak growth. A fair growth is from four to five feet the first summer.
Madame Prune says nothing, but I can see that she does not think the less; her languishing attitudes, her hand that at each moment gently touches mine, confirm the suspicions that her look of dismay a few moments ago awoke within me: evidently my physical charms speak to her imagination, which in spite of years has remained full of romance!
I am doing nothing, I feed the sparrows with hemp-seed and prune a rose-tree a day. After my pruning, the roses flower magnificently. I am not looking after the farming. Keep well, dear Alexandr Ivanovitch, thank you for your letter and friendly sympathy. Write to me for the sake of my infirmity, and don't blame me too much for my carelessness in correspondence.
She pondered a second, then wrote: Dear Father: A change of plans makes me return home at once. Please wait and see me there. I've something important to talk over with you. Affectionately, Kate. Ordinarily people try to squeeze their message to ten words, and count and prune and count again; but not so, Catherine. For her, a telegram had never contained any space limit.
Prune extract and bright alcohol, so wooden One kills its flavor in rank fusel oil! C2-H3-HO a rather good 'un To mix with fruity syrups in our toil To give our social meetings after dark Their necessary spark! And you, most heavenly twins, Born of one mother Although our woe begins When, through our mortal sins, We can't tell which from 'tother Ethyl And Methyl!
We can do it by odd jobs, and the apples hain't good for nothin' anyway." But I sez, "You can't prune apple trees into figgers, Josiah, it takes different trees, and that is too big anyway." "That's a woman's way of talkin'; I want her in heroic size, she's worthy on't.
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