Pruning our plants for future growth is a God lesson

"They’re getting green,” my garden-helper squealed as he saw the smallest leaf buds beginning to appear on the hydrangeas.

I pointed out the pinks and purplish blues of the hyacinths that have popped up in the planters, and the greenery of the tulips and daffodils just poking up from the soil.

I can’t believe it was snowing only a few weeks ago. Last year around this time, I was hunting for tulips in the stores, hoping to buy purple tulips for my youngest’s birthday (because purple was – and still is – his favorite color). I didn’t find them until late March last year; now, it looks like I’ll have my own tulips to cut from the backyard.

Spring has officially sprung, it seems. The disorderly weather seems to confuse the natural world: last week, we were in shorts; now, we’re back in morning jackets and long sleeves.

Our backyard patio has three “cutouts” in the concrete for plants. When we moved in almost three years ago now, we set up parameters: the largest cutout with my hydrangeas was off limits. They learned quickly to watch that site for the bright blue blooms that arrive, the signal of the start of summer. They learned to protect that site, to keep it safe so that nature could run its course.

On the other side of the patio, there’s another very large hydrangea that we hadn’t really attended since our move. I had hoped each spring that this would be the year I began cultivating that section of garden. Last year, I did start – azaleas were removed to make way for a pollinating garden. But the gargantuan hydrangea remained. Probably because each time I stared at it, I saw how much work it would be.

This was the year.

As my son Ollie pointed out the green buds, I knew I didn’t have much more time to wait. He grabbed his small shovel and toddler-sized rake and hoe. I pulled on my gardening gloves and hauled out my shears and pruners. It was time.

Ollie got to work on clearing out the leaves, while I inspected the plant. For over an hour, we worked, pruning and shaping the large hydrangea (which was actually three overgrown plants). By the time we were done, it was probably less than half its size. It may not bloom this year, but it will be happier with its dead wood removed.

“I’m sad,” Ollie said as we stood back, admiring our handiwork. He was sad because of all that we had cut away, our large pile of yard waste reminding him of what was previously there. “What if the flowers don’t come back?” he asked.

I told him we were helping the plant to grow – that sometimes we have to cut away and remove things so that nature can come back stronger.

And as I was explaining the growth cycle of the hydrangea, I realized that the same is true for all of us. As parents, we know that we must let go in order to allow our children to grow. And as adults, we often realize that we need to let go and cut away those aspects of life that are holding us back so that we, too, can reach our greatest potential. 

Life is truly a pruning and growing process.

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