The old man and the tree

Behind this street there's a smaller street that runs at 90 degrees. So our kitchen looks out over their long back gardens.
In the third garden along there's a rather fine tree. But the man who lives there hates it. The first sign of spring round here is when he gets out his ladder and hacksaw. And today is the day.
Each year he climbs into the tree and prunes it hard. His wife watches from a faded plastic chair. Then he takes the branches into the lane and burns them. Each year the man's hair gets a little more grey and the bonfire in the lane gets a little bigger.
I imagine their conversation.
'It's the wrong time of year, you know. You should prune this tree in the summer.'
'I know what I'm doing.'
'You're pruning too hard. You're making it grow bigger. Look at all the shoots from last time.'
'I know what I'm doing.'
He's looking thin and bent. This may be the last year he climbs the tree.