Pruning

Years ago, when I had ambitions of becoming a world renown plant pathologist (seriously, I wanted to create more blue and purple flowers because they brought happiness and calm to people) I worked at a local landscape nursery called Ken Mulch.

I loved it there. The lessons I learned have stuck with me. Lessons such as hard work, it's ok to sweat, sometimes you have to hang out in a greenhouse with the sprinklers on when it's 100 outside, and pruning. Pruning is essential to growth.

I learned this primarily from two men named Harold and Jim. Both were older than I, one much. They taught me to step back and look at the rose bush. How did I see it growing and how did I want it to grow. To look at the whole plant and the branches that made it up. Then to trim no more than 1/3 at a time, and at the right time, too. To take each branch and look for the space just above where five green leave where. There, I'd see a node that would become a branch. If it wasn't facing the right direction keep looking. And then clip. But at an angle so rain and moisture would drain off and avoid rotting. And a few inches above where the node was so the branch would have space to die, and also rebirth itself. If done meticulously, the rose bush would grow beautifully, season after season. (this doesn't account for disease, bugs, etc.).

I used to spend hours clipping our rose bushes. I still do at my house. And I clip the hedges at my moms with these thoughts in mind.

Truth be told, life is a lot like pruning a rose bush, if you ask me. And I am applying these lessons to my life. Just because the branch is there, doesn't mean it's where I want it. Just because I prune it doesn't mean it was bad.

The pruning must begin with the end in mind, and allow for various meanderings along the way.

Life isn't just like a box of chocolate, it's also like a beautiful rose bush--properly or improperly pruned.