I Hated Asking for Help. So I Stopped.

October 2026

My son Michael comes for lunch on the first Sunday of the month. He’s forty-six, he works too hard, and he’s a good boy. And every single time he came through the front gate, I’d hear myself say it before he’d even got his sunnies off: “While you’re here, love, could you just…”

Just the bottlebrush. Just the branch over the driveway. Just the hedge along the front fence, which was getting away from me.

He’d look at it, and he’d look at his watch, and he’d say, “Next weekend, Mum. I promise.” And he meant it. He always meant it.

My neighbour took this one. That’s me, having a word to the hedge.

But next weekend there was the footy, or the grandkids’ swimming, or his work. Then it was next month. Then he’d walk in the gate and the hedge was a bit worse, and I’d ask again, and we’d both pretend it was the first time.

I used to do it all myself

I want you to understand, I’m not helpless. I’m seventy-one. I did that hedge myself for thirty years. But my knees don’t like the stepladder any more, and Col’s old saw still sits in the shed weighing about as much as I do. Even when Col was alive, I could barely hold it up for a minute.

So the pruning became something I waited for. I waited for Michael. I waited for my daughter to come up from Melbourne at Easter. I waited, and the hedge didn’t.

The postie started leaving my mail on the step. I didn’t blame him.

By winter it had swallowed the letterbox. The lilly pilly along the front had gone woody and leggy, with branches as thick as my thumb and a few as thick as my wrist. You couldn’t see my front windows from the street.

Honestly, it was the asking that wore me down. I started to dread the first Sunday of the month, and I love that boy.

You go from being the mum who did everything to the mum with a list.

My gloves sat on that table from autumn on. I didn’t have the heart to put them away.

A review that could have been about me

One night I was on the iPad, looking up hedge trimmers and getting nowhere. Everything looked heavy, or noisy, or like it needed a man in a ute. Then I came across a review online, and I read it out loud to the empty lounge room:

“The ladders got too risky and the saws got too heavy, so the pruning became a waiting game for the kids to visit. I hold this one in one hand and just do it myself.”

That was Helen B from Albury, in a customer review. A waiting game. That was exactly it. That was my whole year.

The saw she was talking about was a little battery chainsaw. I nearly laughed when I saw it. It looked like something you’d find in a toy box. But I went through that page word by word, and then I ordered one before I could talk myself out of it.

It’s a 6″ Mini Chainsaw. It weighs 1 kg, lighter than a bag of sugar, and it’s made to use with one hand. No petrol, no pull cord. You press the power button and squeeze the trigger together, so it won’t start by accident. It cuts branches up to 10 cm thick, and you charge the battery like a phone. See today’s price ↓

Done before lunch

It came on the Wednesday. Michael wasn’t due for another fortnight, and I didn’t tell him a thing.

On the Saturday I charged both batteries, put on the gloves that come in the kit and my old gardening hat, and went out to the front fence at half past eight. I started at the footpath end and worked my way along, taking the thick woody bits back at about chest height, standing on my own two feet on the grass.

Small enough to look like a toy, until it gets going.

The first branch went through so easily I stood there for a second, a bit stunned. Then I did the next one. And the next. I swapped batteries once, about halfway along, and had a cup of tea on the front step while Mrs Nguyen from across the road came over to have a look.

By half past eleven it was done. The letterbox was back. You could see my front windows again. I was enjoying myself so much I had a go at the shrubs along the back fence as well. I filled the green bin to the top, and Mrs Nguyen let me have half of hers.

The back fence, done as well. That pile all went in the bins.

I did it before lunch. I keep saying that to people, because I still can’t quite believe it. My arms were a bit tired that night, the way they get after a good morning in the garden, and that was all.

The first Sunday of the month

When Michael came for lunch, he stopped dead at the gate. “Who did the hedge?” he said. “I did,” I said.

He walked the length of the fence and back, like he was checking my work. Then he came inside and we had lunch.

I didn’t ask him for a single thing. Not one.

We talked about his work and the grandkids and the footy, and it was the nicest lunch we’d had in a year.

I’ve still got a list. It’s just that now it’s mine, and I get through it myself, one Saturday morning at a time.

The saw I use

Weighs 1 kg, lighter than a bag of sugar. Made for one-handed use.
One-button start. No petrol, no pull cord.
Cuts branches up to 10 cm thick.
The kit has 2 batteries, a fast charger, a spare chain, tools and gloves.
30-day money-back guarantee and a 90-day warranty.

Trusted by 20,000+ Aussie Gardeners.

6” Lightweight Mini Chainsaw Kit + 2 Free Batteries

~~$240.00~~ $119.99 SAVE 50%

Only 1 kg. Lighter than a bag of sugar, and made for one-handed use.
One-button start. No petrol, no pull cord, no fuss. Charge the battery like a phone.
Cuts branches up to 10 cm thick. The kit has 2 batteries, a fast charger, a spare chain, tools and gloves.

Shipped express from our Brisbane warehouse, arrives in 2 to 6 business days

Bundle & Save