Daff dabbed lightly at a few more of the more noticeable scratches, humming out an amused reply to his conclusion about the garden and who it belonged to. "Can never have too much of a good thing, for us, it's plants." She chuckled gently and tossed the rest of the dittany in into the nearby compost pile. "I'm sure you can relate." Any hobby or career you loved never felt like work.

Daffy sat back now, plopping easily enough onto the dirt path beside the pumpkins to look him over one last time. Her skirts were already covered in dust, it wasn't the end if the world. He'd survive too, certainly, and no worse for the wear — and without evidence of his crash.

"It's such a handsome hue, cherry wood?" Trees were not exactly her wheelhouse, but Daffy had some basic knowledge. Plus the color was pretty unmistakable. "Hardwood, must be kind of heavy?" She knew even less about brooms than she did trees, but she had always been the type to say what she was thinking.