#Hedge Trimming Canterbury | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dykephannie · 7 years

Text

Virtuoso

summary: Phil Lester and Dan Howell both consider themselves the top selections for the best orchestra at their elite music university, and find themselves competing for the position.

genre: angst

tw: stress to the point of not eating or sleeping

word count: 4.5k

a/n: do you like my fics? would you like to have a sneak peak at what fics are coming up? are you reading this in your head like an infomercial? then you should follow my twitter! i am kinda desperate for followers but it’s also where i post my random dnp thoughts and phanfic sneak previews! please check it out and give it a follow if you’d like!

Phil had always been pretty good at the violin.

He had picked it up when he was five, sent through grueling lessons that hardened the tips of his fingers with callouses and cramped his wrist until his bow hold was perfect.

His teacher was strict and insistent. If Phil didn't come to his lessons with at least 8 hours of practice under his belt, his teacher was always able to tell, and there was always a punishment. But Phil was grateful for what he had endured. It brought him to the gates of Canterbury Academy, the most prestigious music school in the country, where he was guaranteed a spot in their second string orchestra. He intended to make the first string by the first audition in the first month of the school year.

Dan thought he was a pretty good violin player too.

Of course, he didn't have the kind of training that Phil had. When he was in middle school he had stumbled across a video of someone doing a violin compilation of video game soundtracks, and all he knew from that moment on was he wanted to do that. He saved up and bought a used violin that was nearly an octave out of tune, but Dan figured out quickly that he had enough of a knack for notation and pitch to fix it. And that natural talent had also landed him in the second best orchestra of Canterbury Academy.

Where he, too, intended to reach the most elite orchestra of the school.

“So what's your major?”

Phil knew that Canterbury was open to all types of musical geniuses. Yet he still thought they would be arranged in dorm buildings with people of similar majors. Phil’s RA indicated otherwise.

“Classical,” Phil said, adjusting his grip on his suitcase. The tiny girl in front of him smiled.

“Sick. I’m a music comp major, but I play drums with the rock band and other cool shit like that.” Z, as she had introduced herself, had frizzy hair dyed electric pink, which was barely contained in two buns at the top of her head. Her face glittered with piercings in her lip, eyebrow, up and down her ears, and in her nose. Her large brown eyes were ringed with blue eyeliner, and her hands rested casually in the pockets of her ripped jean shorts.

“Well, it’s uh, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Your room is down that way and to the left.” Z pointed with a long, black fingernail down the hall.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Let me know if you've got an issue!”

Phil shot her an awkward thumbs up and headed for the direction she had pointed in, struggling with fitting the key into the lock. His dorm building was one of the oldest on campus, which meant ancient locking mechanisms and, as he soon discovered, a total of two power outlets.

Both beds in the dorm room were empty, and after a brief moment of deliberation, Phil placed his violin case on the one on the left. He sighed and glanced out the window. His room overlooked the gardens behind the house, decorated with white roses and finely trimmed hedges. The school was almost as gorgeous as the music it produced.

Phil was shocked from his daze by someone knocking on his door. It was wide open, so the knock was unnecessary. The guy had curly hair and bright green eyes, holding a large, curved music case in his hand. He had what seemed to be a permanent, friendly smile on his face.

“Hey! You must be Phil!”

“And you must be PJ.” Phil had been in contact with his roommate for a few weeks before the beginning of school. He was a jazz comp major, if Phil remembered correctly, and in that curved case there must have been a saxophone.

“So uh, have you been here long?”

“No, not really. Haven’t even had the chance to unpack.”

“Oh, haha.” PJ’s smiled wavered a bit. “Right.”

The awkwardness uncomfortably settled in the stuffy air of the tiny dorm room. Phil quickly turned to his suitcase, unzipping it and letting it fall open. It was going to be a long year.

On the opposite side of the campus, Dan lounged on his bed, a joint in between his lips, as his roommate tuned his cello next to him.

“Higher,” Dan told him as a slightly flat C reverberated around the room.

“My chromatic says it’s fine.”

“Don’t trust a chromatic, Anthony.” Dan flipped over on his side, giving his roommate a cocky grin. “Trust my perfect ears.”

“Yeah whatever.” Anthony set his cello down and wandered across the room, the floorboards squeaking underneath his feet. He snatched the joint from Dan’s mouth and took a drag. “You’re a pretentious little fucker, you know that?”

“That’s bold, coming from someone who just met me an hour ago and plays the cello.”

Anthony snorted, obviously trying to stifle his laughter. And Dan felt incredibly confident that he had made his first college friend.

Dan and Anthony walked to their first rehearsal together the next day. They had been placed in the same orchestra, and the anticipation of their chair assignments weighed heavy on their chests as they walked, Anthony tugging his cello behind him.

Phil was also nervous as his footsteps led him in the same direction, alone apart from his violin case clutched tightly in his hand. PJ had woken up at 5 that morning, trying and failing to be as quiet as he could as he changed into workout gear and closed the door behind him. Unfortunately the door wouldn’t properly close unless it was slammed, so Phil was shocked awake by both PJ’s jazzy alarm tone and the loud thump as the door shut. Waking up that early did not mix well with staying up wracked with stress the entire night, and Phil was extremely paranoid that he would fall asleep at his music stand before he even set his bow on the strings of his violin.

The class was stirring with the plucking of strings and the murmur of anxious students, no one daring to even touch the plastic chairs before receiving an assignment. The quiet that fell over the room when the teacher walked in was eerie.

“Everyone tuned up?” she asked. She appeared strict, with a tight black bun and slight wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. “Good.”

She tapped her baton on the edge of her music stand. “We’ll proceed with chair auditions. I assume everyone has prepared a piece?”

Phil confidently reached into his case and pulled out a Bach sonata he had been perfecting. But halfway across the room, Dan’s blood had turned cold. He had all the music they were to play for the month, but that was it. It hadn’t even occurred to him to bring an audition piece.

“Alright, we’ll start with basses and work upwards. Ms. Fiona Del Rose, what piece will you be auditioning with?”

Dan loosened and tightened his bow hairs nervously. At least he had some time to think.

That time did not last long.

“Daniel Howell?”

Dan shrugged away his fear. “Uh, just Dan is fine. And I’ll be auditioning with… a medley of music from Final Fantasy 7.”

The conductor was taken aback, but Dan was playing before she could object.

Phil’s hands had been glued to the fingerboard of his violin, incessantly pressing the tips of his fingers up and down and zoning out as he practiced soundlessly. But when he heard Dan’s opening notes, his eyes found him immediately. The song was one he recognized, one that filled him with the nostalgia of playing video games late at night, after all his violin practice and homework had been done, when he could finally feel like a real kid. And Daniel Howell’s rendition was even better than be original.

Dan was extremely talented. Phil supposed that everyone here was, but the way Dan drew his bow across the string and swayed ever so slightly with the rhythm of the music was the kind of talent that was completely natural. His bow hold was sloppy, but strong nonetheless. His vibrato was awkward, but the notes were angelic, like they had been sung instead of played. Phil was enchanted, from the first measure to the last.

“Philip Lester?”

“What?”

The conductor was staring down at him, brow furrowed. “Your audition piece, Mr. Lester.”

Someone in the room coughed. “Oh uh, right. Hang on.”

Flustered, Phil placed his music on his stand and shouldered his violin, trying to stop his fingers from shaking as he carefully lowered the bow onto the string.

The sonata was short and sweet, but by the end of it, Phil felt like a mess. The entire time he played he couldn't stop thinking about Dan and the way he had performed. His eyes carefully scanned the room to find Dan conversing quietly with a curly haired cello player. He looked up when he noticed Phil staring. They locked eyes for a brief moment before Phil shifted his glance away.

“Thank you, Mr. Lester. Who’s next?”

By the time all he auditions were completed, Phil’s anxiety had only grown. He was certain that he had played that F sharp out of tune, and shortened a half

note like, two times. The conductor’s stern gaze swooping across the room didn't do much to ease his nerves either.

“My name is Ms. Sullivan. Welcome to Canterbury Chamber Orchestra B. It is a huge honor to be accepted into this orchestra. However I understand that Chamber Orchestra A may be a goal for a vast majority of you.” Sullivan paused. “I have spoken with the conductor of said orchestra, and he’s agreed to open auditions every month.”

The volume in the room increased as the space filled with murmurs. Phil’s fingers tightened around the neck of his violin.

“Auditions will be open to all of you at the end of the month, yet I do not encourage you to audition if you are placed in the lower half of the seating for your section,” Ms. Sullivan continued. She ended her statement with a wry, knowing smile. “Speaking of which.”

The class collectively held its breath.

“Mr. Bailee, you will be our principal bassist. Mr. Padilla, our principal cello. Ms. Bennett for viola. And finally…” She paused. Whether to add dramatic effect or cause his heart to beat so fast it exploded Phil wasn’t sure. “Our concertmaster will be Mr. Howell. Please see me right now for your individual seating assignments.”

Dan blinked. He had gotten first chair. With a medley from fucking Final Fantasy?!

“Nice going man!” Anthony congratulated, slapping Dan on the back.

“Yeah, yeah you too.” Dan could barely form a coherent sentence. He was still awestruck, and remained that way until he was comfortably seated at Ms. Sullivan’s left hand, fingers tapping against the fabric of his jeans.

Next to him was a tall, pale boy with dark black hair who looked almost as stricken as Dan. But judging from the way his intense blue eyes bore a hole into the metal music stand, it was an angry type of stricken. Dan hadn’t been paying much attention to the other auditions, but he supposed to one he heard faintly in between the whispers exchanged with Anthony, the one he was certain would clinch first chair, must have been this guy. This guy, with his long fingers and sharp jawline and strict posture as he sat on the edge of the chair with a confidence that could only come from years of violin training. This guy, this incredibly fuckable guy, was to be Dan’s second chair.

He was going to have some trouble focusing on the music.

“Hi, I’m Dan.”

Phil’s eyes shifted over to Dan’s open hand, awaiting his to shake. Phil swallowed a sigh of annoyance. “Phil. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Dan grinned, an easy grin that reminded Phil of the way Z had smiled at him earlier. Phil wondered if Dan would be more at place behind a drum kit.

He certainly appeared that way. His black jeans were ripped at the knees, and his oversize sweater hung low around his hips. His hair was close cropped save for a pile of curls carelessly styled at the top of his head. He even had black studs in his ears, which he fiddled with while he tapped his white sneaker against the linoleum floor. That was another thing. He was constantly fidgeting. Phil thought sitting him at a drum set would’ve helped with that. It also would’ve helped Phil to sit in the spot Dan was. Sure, his performance was beautiful. But with Dan now, in front of him, Phil couldn’t see how he had lost to a guy whose violin was haphazardly sitting in his lap, risking a destructive fall every time Dan’s foot tapped against the ground.

“Alright students.” Ms. Sullivan tapped her baton against her music stand. “Let’s warm up with some scales, shall we?”

At the end of rehearsal, Phil was packing up his violin when he felt a presence hover over him.

“What’re your afternoon classes?” Dan asked cheerfully. Phil stiffened and buckled his case closed.

“Theory, classical composition, and my gen ed class is philosophy.”

“Damn, I’ve got philosophy too,” Dan said. “I’m going to run to the Tyler house dining hall and get something to eat. Want to come with?”

Phil didn’t think he had much of an option. He didn’t want to be rude to his stand partner within the first couple hours of knowing him. “Sure.”

“Cool. My friend Anthony is going to tag along too, is that okay?”

“Uh yeah.”

So Phil found himself walking in between Dan and Anthony, who both looked and acted like brothers, leaving Phil the awkward third wheel.

Dan and Anthony chatted throughout the entire lunch as Phil sullenly stirred his pasta.

“That medley you did was so sick,” Phil heard Anthony say. “I love Final Fantasy.”

“Me too,” Phil spoke up. Finally something he could talk about.

“Oh really? What’s your favorite game?” Anthony asked, with a suspicious tone as if he didn't believe Phil.

“Seven,” Dan and Phil replied in unison.

Dan looked over at Phil and smiled. Phil felt himself smiling back. Maybe Dan wasn’t so bad after all.

Phil changed his mind after rehearsal the next day.

Dan was just so effortlessly good, and it frustrated Phil to no end. Phil had played the opening note of Anderssen’s Concerto in D Major a hair out of tune, and while Sullivan was chiding the bassists on their sloppy bows, Dan leaned over and reminded Phil to press his finger down just a bit harder on that opening. Meanwhile, Dan never screwed up a single note. Phil was certain both he and Sullivan recognized his perfect pitch by the end of the rehearsal.

“Mr. Howell,” Phil heard her mutter as he was packing up his violin. “I very strongly encourage you to audition at the end of this month.”

Phil gritted his teeth. He would need to improve if he wanted that first chair seat, and if he wanted Ms. Sullivan’s blessing.

So he practiced.

He practiced until the indentations in the tips of his fingers were permanent, until his fingers were cramped in the curled position of his bow hold. He played until 10 pm, when PJ went to sleep, and then made his way through the dark house to the practice room across the campus. He survived on coffee and ramen cooked hastily in the nearest microwave. His philosophy grade slipped. His theory homework remained abandoned in his backpack.

But by the end of the second week, none of that mattered.

“The seating arrangements have been altered this week,” Ms. Sullivan announced as her students rosined their bows and tuned quietly. Phil paused and held his breath. “I’d like Mr. Lester and Mr. Howell to switch, please.”

A funny look crossed Dan’s face, like he had smelled something foul. Phil was trying to fight his triumphant smile as the two of them awkwardly swapped seats. Phil managed to catch the furtive glance Anthony sent Dan’s way, and Dan’s furrowed brow in response.

“Can you give us a D, please, Mr. Lester?”

Phil grinned confidently and shouldered his violin.

“It’s bullshit,” Dan growled, slamming the door behind him, earning a startled yelp from Anthony.

“What is? What’s happening?”

“You know what’s happening,” Dan insisted. “Phil Lester got fucking first chair! Weren’t you just telling me how that guy has like, no soul.”

“I mean I guess, but do you really think Sullivan cares about soul?” Anthony sat up, smoothing back the stray curls in his eyes. “She’s older than Mozart.”

“She is not older than Mozart.”

“I’m just saying, she likes the classic stuff and the fact that Lester can hold a brow properly.”

Dan frowned. “I can hold a bow properly.”

Anthony made a high pitched sound of disagreement. “Whatever. Doesn't matter. You need to chill, you can still do well in auditions at the end of the month.”

“I got bumped down. That's not going to look good.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows. “For real, Dan. You've got to fucking chill.”

“Easy for the you to say,” Dan muttered. “You're still principal cello.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Dan didn't sleep much that night.

Or the next night.

By the third night, he had had enough. He pushed aside his duvet, threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and grabbed his violin. He closed the door behind him as quietly as possible.

Dan regretted not bringing a jacket as he hurried through the chilly autumn night, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. The tips of his fingers were nearly frozen by the time he opened the door to the practice rooms. A quiet, lilting noise filled his ears as soon as he stepped through the threshold. It sounded like the first violin part for one of the pieces they were doing. Dan’s blood ran as cold as it had been outside. He knew exactly who was here.

Dan followed the music to the second floor and down the hallway, his mind racing. This was how Phil Lester had been able to get so ahead of him. He had been practicing all day, all night. Holed up in here, isolating himself.

Two could play at that game.

Dan chose the practice room right next to Phil’s. He turned on the light and pulled out his violin, staring down at his bow hold. Was he doing it wrong?

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and adjusted his fingers after a quick Google search. Everything needed to be perfect.

Dan took a breath and burst into the Allegro they were working on today, playing it as loud and crisp as he could. The mezzo fortes became fortes, and the fortes fortissimos. Dan played and played until the gentle music the room over stopped. Dan felt himself grin and moved onto the next measure, playing until he heard his own door fly open.

“What is your problem?!”

His bow slid off his string, creating an ugly scratching sound. “What do you mean?”

Phil was fuming, the neck of his violin looked just about ready to crack from how tightly he was clutching it. He was wearing glasses that were sliding down his crinkled brow. Dan thought he looked good in them, better than if he were wearing contacts. But he didn’t figure now was a good time to bring that up.

“There are like, twenty practice rooms in this building and you choose the one next to mine! I don’t care how pissed you are that I got concertmaster, just stay out of my fucking space!”

Dan couldn’t help but notice how tired Phil looked, the black rings around his eyes, his face a shade paler than normal. The skin was hanging off his sharp cheekbones, like he hadn’t eaten properly in awhile. Dan frowned, his pettiness erased by Phil’s alarming state.

“Are you okay mate?” Dan asked carefully.

Phil took a step back, as if that was the last thing he expected in response. “What…? I mean, I will be if you leave me the fuck alone and stop acting like a kid!”

“You should get some sleep,” Dan said. “You’ve already got first chair. You deserve a break.”

The anger had been all but erased from Phil’s features. His next words came soft and uncertain from his mouth. “Just… fuck off okay?”

Phil left the room, footsteps echoing through the silent building. Dan stood and started packing up his violin.

Dan scoured the school website the next day in philosophy, searching through rosters until he found Phil’s name and dorm number. When his classes were over, he wandered over to Phil’s building and asked a petite girl with wild hair for directions to his room. She pointed him down the hall.

Dan stood in front of Phil’s door, hesitating for the slightest of moments, before he brought up his fist and knocked. The knob turned almost right away, and the door swung open with some difficulty to reveal a guy with bright green eyes and a saxophone around his neck.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Uh yeah, this is Phil Lester’s room, right?”

The guy frowned. “Yeah. He’s not here right now though.”

“When will he be back?”

“Honestly?” He sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders released. “Probably not anytime soon. I don’t even think he came back to the building yesterday. You’ll have better luck in the practice rooms.”

“Thanks.”

“Why do you ask?” the saxophonist asked suspiciously. “Are you guys friends?”

“I’m worried about him, that’s all,” Dan said. “He’s been pushing himself too hard, I can tell.”

“This is a music Academy,” he pointed out. “That’s kind of the only option.”

“Still,” Dan replied. “There’s still a line.”

He stuck out his hand. “PJ Liguori.”

Dan shook. “Dan Howell.”

“Give me your number so I can text if Phil comes back.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

Dan took PJ’s phone and put in his contact information. They parted ways with a nod, and Dan’s head swirled with even more worry than it had before he had arrived.

Of course, he didn’t know why he was concerned. Phil had stolen his position after all. Phil running himself into the ground so ferociously that he could barely keep his eyes open for an entire piece benefitted Dan. But it also made him sick to his stomach. Did Phil really deserve to nearly kill himself over a petty dispute in orchestra? Did it matter that much?

Was the fact that Dan had never received a proper violin lesson in his life making him think this way? Had the competition been injected into Phil’s fingers by whatever harsh teachings he had to survive to get here?

Dan didn’t know. But he did know that this wasn’t worth it. He had to help Phil.

He couldn’t have picked a worse time than the week before Orchestra A auditions.

“Hey,” Dan called, jogging up to Phil after class after he had bolted out the door as soon as he had been dismissed. “Are you going to lunch?”

“No.”

“Are you going to eat anything?”

Phil was caught off guard again. “I don’t know. I mean, yes. Why do you care?”

“Come on, we’re getting lunch.” Dan grabbed Phil’s wrist, shooting him a cocky grin.

“No, I can’t…”

“Come on.”

Phil blinked. The fight melted from his body. “Fine.”

Dan sat across from Phil minutes later, watching him scarf down the bland dining hall food like it was his first meal in weeks. It probably was.

“Feel better?” Dan asked. Phil looked up to meet his eyes before glancing back down at his food.

“I guess. I actually got kind of sick of ramen.”

Dan snickered. “You really should eat some real food every now and again.”

“No time,” Phil replied. “Auditions are next week.”

“I’m pretty sure you know every violin piece perfectly.”

Phil stopped and set down his fork. “Not everyone is a naturally gifted musical genius like you, Dan. Some people have to work, and keep working, if they want to get better.”

“I’m no musical genius.”

Phil scoffed. “Don’t humble yourself. You’ve got perfect pitch. You can memorize music like that. Every note you play you might as well be singing you’re… amazing.” The lightest pink was tinting Phil’s cheeks. He turned back to his food.

“Thanks.”

The next day, Dan was sure to drag Phil to lunch with him again. And call PJ at night, to make sure Phil was in his bed, sleeping. The routine continued, until the day before the auditions.

Dan noticed that the vibrancy had returned to Phil’s skin as he walked into Dan’s dorm. Anthony was away, practicing out by himself, so Dan was in his room working on his his audition. Strewn across his bed were sheets for a Legend of Zelda medley he had arranged himself, sheets he had been staring at for days and had memorized within the first hours of making them.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing?” Dan asked Phil teasingly. The other man wasn’t even carrying his violin, and it might’ve been his imagination, but Dan thought that without the weight of the instrument, Phil stood up straighter and easier.

“Thought I would take a break.” Phil pointed at an empty spot on Dan’s bed. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Dan shuffled his papers out of the way and sat down next to Phil. “Are you nervous?”

“I should be,” Phil decided. “But instead I feel disturbingly calm. Like my entire life doesn’t rest on whether or not I make it into this orchestra.”

“There’s always next month.”

“Always next month.”

The two of them paused, staring out Dan’s windows and over the campus.

“I wanted to thank you,” Phil said finally.

“For what?”

Phil laughed. “You pretty much saved my life. Who knows where I’d be if I continued like that?”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“I’m serious.” Phil’s voice had lowered. His hand had snaked closer to Dan’s until their fingers were overlapping. “Thank you.”

Dan didn’t know what to say next. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything.

Phil had leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Dan’s eyes had fluttered closed, his hand properly fitting into Phil’s. Phil had made a soft, breathy noise that was better than any music that came out of his violin.

The next day, Dan and Phil arrived for their audition times. They played their hearts out for the conductor of Chamber Orchestra A, each thinking of nothing but the notes and the taste of the other’s lips.

Monday of the next week, the conductor entered the room to announce who he would be taking on this month.

“Anthony Padilla, welcome to Chamber Orchestra A.”

#djsjsjsj i was initially going to have dnp both make it #but then i was like what about anthony #and eventually i said FUCK IT let's piss everyone off #lmao #anyway long time no see huh #i think this is the first fic on this blog maybe>#*?#hope y'all like it #i think i like it #phanfiction #phanfic #phan angst #phan au #musician!dan #musician!phil #phan #franfic

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ol-plots-blog · 7 years

Photo

The fiann landed on English soil before the sun had risen. Canterbury was a sore spot for some of them – Fitzpatrick in particular had had a lot to say on the subject over drinks the night before – but many others were in the mood to celebrate, hooting and hollering and practically begging for the English to poke their heads out of their gingerbread houses to complain.

“Oy!” roared Cloran, whacking O’Donoghue over the back of the head simply by virtue of being closest. The others turned to look at him, wide-eyed and innocent in their youth. “Shut it,” he growled, and the others lowered their heads.

It wasn’t often Cloran got to be the alpha of the fiann – Fitzpatrick was usually the obvious choice to take the lead, but Fionn had felt that this particular hit might be too personal. Cloran glanced over at the bigger man now, noting the way his eyes were dancing around the city, lip pulled back over his long canines as though the mere smell of Canterbury had him riled up.

It was supposed to be in and out: mark a few cities and get back home before breakfast was served. Cloran, eager to prove to Fionn that he could do it, was going to get them there. No one knew they were coming; no one would be expecting them. The Ministry – (load of wankers with their wands so far up their asses they couldn’t cast a cleaning charm to get rid of the shit their mouths spew) – would arrive too late to be of any use.

The dawn was theirs.

Cloran signalled to Breen, who rallied up the younger ones and together they started walking. It was a loose gaggle of men, dressed casually in thick coats and heavy boots – if England was cold, Ireland was an artic bloody wasteland. Fionn would’ve chewed them out about their formation, Cloran could almost hear his alpha’s voice in his head: what are you doing? You’re vulnerable on every side! Who’s taking point? Who’s bringing up your rear? Sometimes Cloran thought that Fionn just liked to rub it in their faces that he was formally trained – that he knew more than them when it came to this stuff.

He couldn’t hold it against Fionn, not really; perhaps if Cloran had been promised everything that Fionn had, he might’ve developed a finely honed sense of self-importance, too.

“It’s up there,” grunted Fitzpatrick, catching Cloran’s eye. He nodded.

“It’s too fuckin’ English,” laughs O’Horahan, running and jumping to smack a sign that reads Tudor Road. “How can anyone fuckin’ stand it?”

“When you live day in ‘n out in a shitpile, you start to get used to the stink,” says Breen, and the younger ones cackle like a pack of hyenas.

They’re a liability, Cloran knows this – they’re as green as the grass on the front lawns they pass, but Fionn figured a little experience and responsibility might make them step up. He watches them, the children of the pack who’ve never seen a real fight, have barely been able to start controlling their Turns, and wonders where Fionn got an idea like that from. (It’s probably why Fionn is The Chosen One or whatever and not Cloran, but he doesn’t think about that).

The roundabout they stand in the middle of is overgrown with weeds and trash; brown paper bags sit, sodden, between the grass roots next to hollow bottles of alcohol and crushed wrappers. Ahead, right ahead, stands the castle.

It’s a ruin now, but it’s not hard to imagine what it might’ve once looked like back a thousand years. Unexpectedly, to his right, Fitzpatrick spits onto the road right in front of the castle, and for just a moment, they all look from the castle’s crumbled sides to the spot where Fitzpatrick had just spat on.

And then the levee broke.

The pups go howling off across the road, chasing one another like the castle isn’t an offence to every single one of them but instead a playground. They tackle it like over eager children, leaping across the neatly-trimmed hedge that borders the ruins and crashing against the bricked sides, laughing like they’re drunk.

“Hey,” Fitzpatrick says, and Cloran doesn’t miss the way they fall in faster for him. “Show some fuckin’ respect.”

It lasts for about a second, the pups looking at each other before O’Donoghue laughs, a big chesty laugh that promises that he’ll grow bigger in the years to come. And he’s the first to do it: pushing down his pants to grab at himself before he urinates on the wall. The others follow, winded with laughter at their antics, and Cloran watches as Fitzpatrick joins them, shaking his head before walking away.

He circles Canterbury Castle once, taking in the exposed sides and crumbling roof – not that there’s much of one left, mind you. Claron is almost surprised to not find a shrine there somewhere, given how proud of their Norman past the English are. History’s official record might be written by the winners, but the defeated don’t forget, and they pass down their own stories. Claron’s family remembered well what the Norman’s did when they invaded Ireland.

Blood for blood.

“Enough,” he snapped when he rounded the castle for the second time to find the young ones pushing at each other. “Get to work.”

“Can it be me?” asks O’Horahan, practically jumping out of his skin to volunteer.

Cloran looks between them. “Be quick,” he said, watching O’Horahan jump around, quickly tugging at his clothes until he’s starkers, standing barefoot in the grey morning light. He grins back at his friends who’re whooping and cheering before he starts to Turn, letting himself drop onto all fours as his nails become claws, his nose becomes a muzzle, skin becomes fur.

Having Turned more times than he can remember, Cloran’s acutely aware of the pain that O’Horahan’s feeling – like your body is too small, your brain too weak, the animal instincts clawing inside of you to break free. It’s why they train them, make them do it three, four times a day – to make them master the animal within.

When the transformation was done and O’Horahan was a mousy-brown coloured wolf the same shade as his hair, he almost grinned a toothy-smile before lunging for the wall. With his claws extended, it took only one swipe for three sharp lines to carve into the stone, eating away at the ancient ruins.

“And the other side,” Cloran ordered, jerked his chin toward the corner and O’Horahan leapt into actual, powerful hindquarters pushing him the other side of the castle. He turned to the others. “You know what to do. Wands at the ready.”

Cloran stood back to let the other work, watching O’Donoghue, clumsy with a wand, carve jagged, messy lines into the wall, while Breen was always perfect – three straight, narrow, but mean looking lines were followed.

“Satisfied?”

Fitzpatrick had an impassive face that gave nothing away. He always won at poker.

“I’ll be happy soon enough,” he said at last, just as O’Horahan jogged around the side of the castle, as naked as the day he was born. “Get some clothes on lad, we’re leavin’.”

Cloran didn’t remember giving the order, but it mattered not – they were all tucking their wands away and shoving O’Horahan’s clothes at him, quicker than what he could put them on. Standing back and looking at the castle in the thin, grey light of dawn, Cloran knew that it would be obvious enough what happened here. Canterbury had been but a pitstop on their fly-by tour of the South; if they didn’t know now, they would later.

“You know the meeting place in Bath,” Cloran said, turning his gaze from the larger-than-life mark that O’Horahan’s claws had left gouged into the side of the ancient fortress. “I’ll see you there.”

One by one, the fiann disapparated, O’Donoghue grinning and Breen looking serious, Fitzpatrick glaring at the castle where his family had died and O’Horahan almost staring lovingly at his mark. Cloran was the last, flicking his eyes around the street just once to make sure that no one had been witness to anything they’d done, and then he was gone, Canterbury nothing but an ancient ruin that would soon become the scene of revenge.

Blood will have blood.

#mark of the werewolf #OSS

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proarbcanterbury-blog · 4 years

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When you need a tree to be trimmed, pruned or hedges generally tidied up, our Canterbury tree specialists are the experts for the job.

Read More: Tree Pruning And Topping In Kaiapoi

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rtirman-blog · 7 years

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25.

That awkward moment in the upstairs hallway at the Holy Cross Central School of Nursing may appear to others as part of my experience with girls. However, it was clearly an embarrassing work moment caused, and witnessed by, a nun! However, that X-rated comedy does bring to mind two persistent challenges in my life other than work and school i.e., making friends, and living with my Harriet, Wally, and my cousins.

One of the first person’s I met was Bob Ernst. I can’t say that Bob and I ever did anything together, but I will never forget the day I met him. After getting a cup of coffee-to-go at the Huddle, I walked over to the La Fortune Student Center to relax. I found a comfortable chair in the large ballroom as you enter the building. It simply was a very comfortable, quiet, place with lots of comfortable chairs of the kind in which I was sitting. I placed my books down on the coffee table, then picked up my newly purchased copy of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. This was not a textbook, nor was it assigned reading. I spotted this paperback copy at the Notre Dame Bookstore, and it reminded me of a night at Daddy’s when my brothers and I were visiting Phyllis and him in Brooklyn

It was quite late, and we were discussing the Canterbury Tales. Really, I ought to be saying that they were discussing the Canterbury Tales while I was on the couch trying so hard to stay awake. I’d hear a bit of conversation or laughter and doze off, that would repeat and repeat itself for what seemed like all night. But all of a sudden the laughter got real loud. I awoke to see Daddy laughing so hard he was crying and giggling. I began to laugh. He took off his glasses, and tears were pouring down his cheeks. Why, in God’s earth was he laughing so uncontrollably? What was so funny? The answer - one of the Canterbury Tales. To be precise it was The Miller’s Tale. No one told me anything else, except that I should read it.

So, when I spotted the book in the book store, I snatched it up quickly; and then, in the quiet and friendly confines of the La Fortune Student Center, I read the Miller’s Tale. Chaucer does not waste a single word! Everything written is essential to the tale. Once I reached the end of the story, I couldn’t believe how masterfully, and cleverly, every written word mattered. Sitting there alone, I laughed and laughed. But I was not alone as I thought. A student, whom I did not know, sitting on the other side of the room, was laughing with me. He made his way over to me, and wanted to know what I was reading that made me laugh so hard. He was laughing because I was laughing! Just as everyone did for me, I told him what I read that made me laugh so hard, but I would not tell him anything more, so as to not spoil it for him. He and I became school friends through all my years at Notre Dame. I don’t recall doing anything with him outside the University. Actually, I had three other friends my freshman year, and I can’t remember doing anything outside the school. With any of them. As I think back, all that makes a whole lot of sense. Classes, labs, studying, and work at the hospital consumed most of my time….and energy! But Alas! I still have not talked about life with my Aunt and Uncle and my cousins.

My cousins were terrific. Whenever I had time to be around them, it was fun. But honestly, those times were few too many. My Uncle Wally, who I loved dearly, somehow felt that I should show my appreciation by doing well in school and by doing chores, such as, trimming the ten-foot-high hedges, mowing and raking the lawn, shoveling snow, etc. Occasionally, I watched the kids. Another dimension to my stay with them was that Wally turned into a hovering parent. I grew up with practically no adult supervision, yet, I adjusted. Even though Wally had always had a great sense of humor, I found him to be a pretty stern person. However, I felt like I needed to do things his way. He made a much better uncle than a parent.

I was hard to participate in anything at the University, and hard to develop friendships. I hope it makes sense when I say I made three friends, and I have no idea how I met two of them – Tony Ciambelli and Ray Sayers. Ray was studying at Notre Dame with his eye on the Priesthood. I believe he was headed for the Congregation of Holy Cross (CSC) because most of the priests there were from that Order. In fact, Father Edward Sorin, the founder of the University, was a Holy Cross priest.

(As an unimportant note of interest, up until this moment, I never put together Father Sorin and St. Edward’s Hall, in which I had the good fortune to live for a couple of semesters. I also just discovered that Father Sorin founded St. Edwards University in Austin, Texas. One more aside - It was pointed out to me, in a calculus class, how to remember the CSC after the names of Holy Cross priests. As you may know, in a right triangle, the sine and cosecant are reciprocals. Therefore, csc=1/sin, or csc equals one over sin. Clever!)

Tony was to become my roommate during my sophomore year. Besides wanting to live on my own, my Uncle thought it best that I leave. He felt, I was a bad influence on my cousins. Frankly, he either felt he put more on his plate than he could chew, or more likely, he feared that I might mess with Sari, who was mature beyond her 10 years. Just meeting that beautiful girl, you would swear she was eleven or twelve years old. The only female that was ever in their house whom I would have liked the nerve to “attack” was Mary Lou Dillon.

Mary Lou was almost two years older than me. She had to be the prettiest and nicest gal in the entire Midwest. Mary Lou worked in my Uncles offices, and was the regular sitter for my cousins. Just trying to talk with her was difficult. I needed to gulp, but I didn’t want her to see me gulp, revealing my unrequited nerves. She was very friendly, and shared a huge secret with me. As most people didn’t know, on radio and aired to only Notre Dame students, there was a nighttime program called “Letters from Home” Since I was not on campus, I never heard Notre Dame’s rendition of “Tokyo Rose”. Nonetheless, the boys (and that’s all there were at Notre Dame, boys!) would listen to the voice of a girl named Elaine. At least, that’s what I think was her name. Mary Lou’s revelation to me was that she was Elaine! All those guys drooling while listening to Elaine with her girl-from-home voice, read those breath-taking letters, and I was the Notre Dame student who knew her best- Mary Lou and I had a “secret”, or from my point of view a “secret relationship”.

(I realize I jump from topic to topic. When I am writing about one thing, another thing comes into my mind. So I start writing about it. Some people would advise me to simply jot down the new thought on another piece of paper. But I am not very organized, and I’ll lose that paper, for sure. Also, when and if I find that paper, I can’t be sure it would conjure up the thoughts I presently have in my mind. Sometimes, I think I have ADHD!)

Back to Tony. Near the end of my freshman year, Tony said, for next year, he was going to rent an upstairs suite in a private home on the west side of South Bend. He asked me to be his roommate. After visiting with the Mr. and Mrs. Komp, the owners of the home, and after viewing the upstairs rooms, I agreed to rent the suite with Tony. We became roommates during my sophomore year. However, I can’t recall actually doing anything with Tony or Ray during that freshman year. I know we had lots of conversations, but I don’t remember whether we were on campus or off campus. I’m certain, they would say I was their friend. During finals in May, Tony, Ray, and I were finally getting together to go to the movies. Due to a familiar circumstance, that get-together never happened.

I need to back up to Father Lane and my first semester chemistry performance. You might recall that I started off that class with a bang. I was teaching other students the Periodic Table. But just like many other things that I start off with a bang, my energy and interest waned, and I lost whatever enthusiasm I had for chemistry. I really think I had too much time between classes, and my penchant for not showing up to my chemistry class went into high gear. My chemistry grades declined rapidly, while my pool skills improved slightly. The end result? I failed Chemistry with a 65 average, and that isn’t a final exam score! So that meant I had to retake Chemistry. The only course available during the Spring semester was being taught by Mr. McCusker, in the Engineering School. Obsessed with the same thoughts I had about taking Trigonometry twice in high school, I was over anxious to not do lousy the second time around. So I used my Uncle’s sure fire method of study. Before a lecture, I read the chapter as if I was reading a novel. I did not to worry about remembering a thing that I read. I then would attend the chemistry class and took notes during the lecture. As immediately after the lecture as was possible, I corrected my notes using my chemistry book. My notes were always in pencil for easy correction. Then, before the next chemistry class, I memorized those notes. Then, each day I went back to the first day of notes and reviewed all of them, from that first day to through the last entry. In essence, that is a continuous recall of the notes from day one. I kept that up the entire semester. I got a 100 % on every exam and every quiz, except the last quiz before the final. I missed a question about an ice-salt mixture falling below 0 degrees Centigrade. Since I had the highest average in the class, and since I missed that question, I was right to expect that same question to show up on the final…it did!

I was seen as a real bright student. I tried to see myself in the same way, but my vision was tarnish by having failed the course before. Anyway, the night before the final, I had told Wally that I had to study for the Chemistry final. He, Harriett and the kids were off to an outdoor movie. After they left, I got cleaned up, and went out the front door to be on my way to see Tony and Ray. However, just as I was walking away from the door, pulling up into the driveway was Wally, with wife and children. He had forgotten something, and came back to the house to get it. Today, I think he came back to get me. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was going to go downtown to go to the movies with Tony and Ray. He said, no! If you are not going to study for that chemistry final, then you will go to the movies with us.

That’s exactly what occurred. I did not study for the final. I did not go out with Tony and Ray. I went to an outdoor movie with the family. Wally was certain I would learn my lesson. Well, I got a 100% on the final and a 97% for the course. The student closest to me got a course grade of 91%…I guess I learned my lesson well!

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arianllwynog-blog · 7 years

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March-The Time of Awakening 3

March-- The time of awakening part three:

A positive precursor to spring for me is the return of our fox, she leaves us in late autumn to meet up with her partner, after her winter dalliance she returns in early march to the den just beyond our boundary, on warm spring days she curls up on our lawn or watches the world go by lying on the shed roof (we have allowed the hedge to grow over giving her a comfy bed up there but more from her in the summer) she is very much my totem animal both in the mundane and astral realms, with her sharp hearing, eyesight and sense of smell she is both a guide and teacher for the traditional witch showing just how to be focused and driven for in the Brythonic tribes the fox was honoured for its wisdom and relied upon as a trusted guide within the spirit realm! So some meditative time with the spirit of the fox may just amaze you at the depth of insight this most regal of creatures has to offer you. Out in the fields our native brown hare (we know it’s been in these islands for over 4000 years) may be sighted more and more frequently another animal that bodes no ill to us! as it has many of our country neighbours down the centuries, in part this can be seen as their being maligned by the church, associated with madness calling them animals of ill omen, the dancing hares at night were said to be covens of witches dancing and these shape-shifting witches in the form of hares were said to cause women to miscarry or give birth defects to their children ‘hare lip’ and dry up the udders of cows, much of it also stems from the inability of farmers to control their numbers for they certainly know how to trim a crop! Now back to business our Brythonic ancestors rarely hunted and killed the hare for food as it was looked upon as a holy creature for many of their deities were associated with and depicted holding them in their hands, with the killing and eating such a taboo that the result of breaking this would result in the perpetrator being struck with cowardice. This restriction was lifted once a year allowing the hare to be ritually hunted and consumed at Beltane, the Anglo Saxons also venerated the hare allowing a ritual hunt as a feature of the Spring festival in honour of the goddess Eostre, who is often depicted as hare-headed for her hare will have laid the egg of new life heralding the rebirth of the year. (We still have Easter bunnies distributing eggs in springtime).

You see I’ve wandered off again!

Anyway the arrival of these islands oppressors in the 11th century and the draconian laws they introduced changed the concept of animals of the hunt they place almost every living thing under the ownership of the King with the penalties being very severe for those caught hunting (the royal forests included fields and open ground), the hare became venery

from the old French venerie, and any flesh from these beasts of the chase (hare, bear, wild boar, wolf and deer) were known as venison.

If we look at our old friend Geoffrey Chaucer. His monk in the Canterbury tales describes himself as an ‘outrider that loved venery’ by which he meant he loved hunting, through Chaucer’s tales are so bawdy that incautious readers may just assume he has another meaning!

Back to the hare with their long bat like ears being part of their early warning system they are capable of picking up the slightest sound, along with a pair of eyes set to the side of their head they can truly look backwards, there is nothing that can take the hare by surprise (only if damaged by ill health or as with us all age!) Now the common sight of ‘boxing hares’ more often than not this is the female letting the male know that she is just not interested and I’m sure she packs a punch!

I should really start to wind this up, it is however clear that in cultures all over the world from ancient times to the present day that the hare is a symbol of enlightenment, not only spiritually but also very much seen as the dawn of the year in this part of the cycle of the wheel that we call spring.

Look closely in your garden, in the fields and hedgerows for you will see those of the animal world out and about busily looking for suitable breeding places and food supplies.

#traditional witchcraft #witchcraft community #witchcraft #pagan #pagan community

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proarbcanterbury1 · 10 months

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Efficient Tree Stump Removal Services in Rangiora

When it comes to Tree Removal Christchurch, entrust the task to experienced professionals who prioritize safety and environmental responsibility. At [Your Company Name], we are committed to providing top-notch tree removal solutions that enhance the safety, beauty, and functionality of your property. Contact us today for a consultation and let us help you create a safer and more appealing landscape.

#Hedge Trimming Canterbury

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proarbcanterbury1 · 11 months

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Expert Tree Felling Services in Kaiapoi for a Safe and Beautiful Landscape

When it comes to maintaining a beautiful and safe landscape in Kaiapoi, tree felling plays a crucial role. Whether you need to remove a hazardous tree, clear space for a construction project, or enhance the aesthetics of your property, professional tree-felling services in Kaiapoi are the answer. In this article, we will explore the importance of Tree Felling Kaiapoi, the benefits of hiring experts, and how they can help you achieve your desired results

#Hedge Trimming Canterbury

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proarbcanterbury1 · 1 year

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#Arborist Canterbury #Hedge Trimming Canterbury #Hedge Trimming Kaiapoi #Hedge Trimming Rangiora #Tree Stump Grinding Christchurch #Tree Stump Removal Christchurch

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proarbcanterbury1 · 1 year

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#Arborist Canterbury #Hedge Trimming Canterbury #Hedge Trimming Kaiapoi #Hedge Trimming Rangiora #Tree Stump Grinding Christchurch #Tree Stump Removal Christchurch

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proarbcanterbury1 · 1 year

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Tree Stump Removal Canterbury is an important process that helps to improve the health and overall appearance of trees. It also improves the amount of sunlight that reaches the tree. There are several methods of tree trimming, including pollarding, crown lifting, and thinning. It is important to find a qualified professional to do the job correctly.

#Hedge Trimming Canterbury #Hedge Trimming Kaiapoi

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proarbcanterbury1 · 2 years

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People take advantage of the nice weather to relax on vacations they had planned all winter long and to get together with friends and family for summer cookouts. Homeowners frequently take advantage of the warm weather to complete yard work tasks that will make their house more like the dream home they had in mind when they first purchased it. One of these projects can require removing some trees in the front, back, or, if any, side yards of their property. Make sure that you hire the best Hire Tree Removal Service Provider.

#Hedge Trimming Canterbury

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proarbcanterbury1 · 2 years

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5 Signs You Need to Hire a Tree Trimming Professional

If you need to trim your trees or hedges, or even if you just want to start pruning them regularly, it’s always wise to call in the professionals instead of trying to do it yourself. Why? Well, tree trimming and pruning can be dangerous and tricky if you don’t know what you’re doing, so the safest option is to ask a professional arborist to help you out. Here are five signs that show it’s time to hire an expert tree trimmer or hedge trimmer in your area.

1) Your tree is overgrown

If your tree is growing out of control, it may be time to call in a professional tree trimming service. Overgrown trees can create a safety hazard and cause damage to your property. Some signs that you may need to have your tree professionally trimmed include:

1. Your Tree Is Too Large – If your tree has grown too large for its surroundings, it may be time to get it trimmed. A professional arborist can help you determine the ideal size and shape for your tree, and trim it accordingly.

2. There Are Dead Branches or Unhealthy Growth – If your tree has dead branches or unhealthy growth, trimming them back will help promote new growth and improve the health of your tree.

3. You Have Unwanted Branches or Limbs – If you have branches or limbs that are growing in an undesired direction, trimming them back will help keep the tree aesthetically pleasing.

4. You Want to Reduce Risk of Damage to Property or People – If your tree is growing near structures or areas that could be damaged if the tree falls, trimming it back can reduce the risk of damage in the future.

5. You Want to Improve Aesthetics – Trimming your tree will help enhance its natural beauty and make it look more attractive.

If you’re noticing any of these signs, it’s time to call in a professional for tree trimming services. Pro Arb Canterbury offers experienced and reliable arborists who can help you get your tree looking its best. Contact us today to learn more about our services and how we can help you take care of your trees.

2) The branches are rubbing against each other

When the branches of your trees start rubbing against each other, it’s a sign that you need to hire a professional for tree trimming services. This kind of rubbing can damage the bark and cause your tree to look unsightly. It can also weaken the tree and make it more vulnerable to disease and pests.

If you notice your trees’ branches are beginning to rub together, it’s best to call in an arborist or a tree trimming expert as soon as possible. A professional can assess the situation and determine the best course of action. They will know how much to prune and where to prune, as well as when it’s necessary to remove dead or damaged branches.

In addition to keeping your trees healthy and attractive, regular pruning can help reduce the risk of a branch falling off during a storm and damaging your property or someone else’s. An experienced arborist will be able to advise you on the safest way to prune your trees and make sure they are maintained properly.

For reliable tree trimming services in Canterbury, look no further than ProArb Canterbury. Our team of professionals is highly experienced and knowledgeable in all aspects of tree care. We provide a wide range of services including hedge trimming, tree pruning, stump grinding, and tree removal. Contact us today for more information about our services and to get a free quote.

3) The branches are too close to the house

If the branches of your tree are getting too close to the house, it’s time to hire a professional to trim them. This can be a dangerous situation, as falling branches can cause property damage or injury. Additionally, overgrown branches can block light and air flow into your home, creating an uncomfortable living space. When the branches become too close, hire a tree trimming professional to keep your tree safe and healthy while providing your home with proper light and airflow.

4) The branches are blocking the view

Are you having a hard time seeing out your window because of the overgrown trees around your property? Have the branches started blocking your view, preventing you from enjoying the scenery? If so, it might be time to hire a professional tree trimming service to help you regain your view.

Tree pruning and trimming are important tasks that must be done correctly in order to maintain healthy growth and keep trees from becoming overgrown. Overgrown trees can cause safety hazards, such as broken limbs, damaged homes, and blocked views. Professional tree trimming services can provide a safe and effective way to trim and shape your trees, allowing you to enjoy the scenery once again.

Here are five signs that you may need to hire a professional tree trimming service:

1. Your trees have grown too tall and are blocking your view.

2. The branches of your trees are starting to rub against your house or other structures on your property.

3. You’re noticing dead or diseased branches in your trees that need to be trimmed.

4. You’re noticing too much shade in certain areas of your yard caused by overgrown trees.

5. Your trees are not growing in an aesthetically pleasing way, and you’d like to reshape them.

If you’re noticing any of these signs, it might be time to hire a professional tree trimming service to help you get your trees back in shape. Professional tree trimmers are knowledgeable and experienced in trimming and pruning trees, allowing them to safely and effectively trim your trees to the desired shape and size.

Don’t let the branches of your trees block your view any longer! Contact a professional tree trimming service today to give your trees the shape and look you desire. They specialize in tree trimming services, including hedge trimming Canterbury and canopy management Canterbury.

5) The branches are dead

When you are looking to maintain a healthy and beautiful landscape, one of the most important tasks is pruning or trimming your trees. Trees can become overgrown and unsightly if they are not trimmed or pruned regularly, and this can also lead to health problems for the trees. If you are unsure of how to properly trim your trees, or don’t have the time or tools to do it yourself, then it’s best to hire a professional tree trimming service. Here are five signs that you need to hire a tree trimming professional:

1. Dead or Dying Branches – If you notice that some of the branches on your tree are dead or dying, then it’s time to hire a professional tree trimming service. Trimming off the dead or dying branches will help keep the tree healthy and looking its best.

2. Too Much Growth – If the tree has grown too much in size, then it may be time to get it professionally trimmed down. Too much growth can cause the tree to become top heavy and lead to structural damage.

3. Unsightly Appearance – If your tree is starting to look untidy, then hiring a professional tree trimming service can help to restore its natural beauty. The professionals know exactly what to do to give your tree a great look.

4. Potential Safety Hazard – If the branches are growing too close to power lines or are blocking sight lines at intersections, then they can be a potential safety hazard and should be trimmed down.

5. Insect Infestations – If your tree is suffering from an insect infestation, then it’s best to get it professionally trimmed as soon as possible to prevent any further damage. The professionals know how to properly trim the tree so that it can remain healthy and insect-free.

If you are noticing any of these signs in your trees, then it’s best to hire a professional tree trimming service such as ProAir Canterbury. They have the expertise and tools necessary to give your trees the care they need and make sure that they remain healthy and looking their best. Whether you want them to trim your hedge, cut back the hedges around your house, or just want to take care of all those pesky weeds in your garden, ProAir Christchurch does it all! Contact them today for more information about Hedge Trimming Christchurch.

#Tree Felling Christchurch

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