Not only rising, but dripping out of the cut ends of the vine branches and leaving a puddle on the porch roof and damp spots on the stones of the patio.
It’s hard to believe that wounds made when pruning three months ago should not have healed over yet, but that seems to be the case.
Which, for no real reason, reminds me of something I wrote in my notebook thirty-something years ago:
Here, nothing needs to be rushed: time solves all problems; time, silence, and… a few lies.
(I didn’t put any attribution, but it may have been from the Radio Times blurb for a Saturday Afternoon Theatre production on BBC Radio 4.)
don't confuse the narrator 