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Miracle Blackmill
"I still don't get it." He said from across the table, watching as the tiny peels of bark and the month old knots fell away from the tiny tree trunk.
"Not sure what you're referencing; the situation at hand or the one waiting for me in the wings that due to the lack of flap I'm going to have to wait on and I assume you're referencing the bonsai and that, my friend, is most likely just not for you to get at this point in time." he used the flat faced blade that was covered with rust he had polished with the 4000 grit sandpaper to glide through the upper part of the tiny knot, producing a perfect little ring. He could feel his old teamate's confusion. "You could buy one, pay the premium, keep it alive, offer proof of life photos daily if not weekly through mail and online to people who care more about your tree than you and then, and only then might you start to 'get it' my brother." He back-scrapped the smooth cut rearwards to help it curl in on the wound he left.
Across the table B's eyes brightened with what could losely be termed illunination. He leaned forward and pointed across the tree at him, point blank in the face. "Now that I undetstand. Dollars make sense and you're basically sitting on a prirary in a long term protection gig. Everything you do given the mico scale of the project shows through."
Straight to the cents of the situation as always. "Pruning equals grooming but some people just see today's scars, the shaved-up product sitting in the expensive little pot, or maybe even in the simple and unglazed concrete or plaster of Paris form. Sometimes that makes it impossible to see the value in the artist's hand let alone the present toil involved in the work of it all." He picked up the knob cutters and went dark in the deep, thinking about the growth of a week and if he should give some of the stems that hadn't produced another bite or even shave them off flat and sand them gone.
"You're not talking about Gallahad are you?" B referenced the tree by name and that was an insolvent point of order in relation to his usual attention potential.
"Not completely dear brother but to be honest it's been castled up long enough and gained no runners it becomes encumbant on me to try and coax it into survival mode." He said, sitting the knob cutters down and picking up a stainless bristled brush to give the delicate bark layer some 'charachter' that would literally help it breathe in the sunshine.
"Kind of like the people back in the day, brush em the wrong way until you got them to actually pretend they wanted to live." B...
"Not sure what you're referencing; the situation at hand or the one waiting for me in the wings that due to the lack of flap I'm going to have to wait on and I assume you're referencing the bonsai and that, my friend, is most likely just not for you to get at this point in time." he used the flat faced blade that was covered with rust he had polished with the 4000 grit sandpaper to glide through the upper part of the tiny knot, producing a perfect little ring. He could feel his old teamate's confusion. "You could buy one, pay the premium, keep it alive, offer proof of life photos daily if not weekly through mail and online to people who care more about your tree than you and then, and only then might you start to 'get it' my brother." He back-scrapped the smooth cut rearwards to help it curl in on the wound he left.
Across the table B's eyes brightened with what could losely be termed illunination. He leaned forward and pointed across the tree at him, point blank in the face. "Now that I undetstand. Dollars make sense and you're basically sitting on a prirary in a long term protection gig. Everything you do given the mico scale of the project shows through."
Straight to the cents of the situation as always. "Pruning equals grooming but some people just see today's scars, the shaved-up product sitting in the expensive little pot, or maybe even in the simple and unglazed concrete or plaster of Paris form. Sometimes that makes it impossible to see the value in the artist's hand let alone the present toil involved in the work of it all." He picked up the knob cutters and went dark in the deep, thinking about the growth of a week and if he should give some of the stems that hadn't produced another bite or even shave them off flat and sand them gone.
"You're not talking about Gallahad are you?" B referenced the tree by name and that was an insolvent point of order in relation to his usual attention potential.
"Not completely dear brother but to be honest it's been castled up long enough and gained no runners it becomes encumbant on me to try and coax it into survival mode." He said, sitting the knob cutters down and picking up a stainless bristled brush to give the delicate bark layer some 'charachter' that would literally help it breathe in the sunshine.
"Kind of like the people back in the day, brush em the wrong way until you got them to actually pretend they wanted to live." B...
