I hate pruning. Well, not all pruning. A bit of genteel snipping is fine, but I hate sawing and lopping perfectly healthy limbs from perfectly healthy plants, turning them into skeletal remains, like this:
The sad fact is that this Photinia (which I grew from a piece trimmed from someone’s hedge), got a lot bigger than I expected — almost 20 feet tall. It would probably have been nearly as wide if not for semiannual efforts with a saw. Even so, it grew into a huge presence, hulking over a corner of the front garden. OK, planting it there was a mistake, but having admitted that, I still had to do something. I decided on hard pruning, a process that reduces a leafy shrub to a set of bare stumps. The idea is that with the springtime rush of growth, new sprouts will emerge and eventually the plant will look full and leafy again, just not as big.
This is more than a matter of faith. My next-door neighbour has a photinia that was subjected to exactly this treatment because it was muscling into the driveway. Five years ago — a set of bare stumps. Now it looks almost as big as it was before. Moreover, the Royal Horticultural Society says that photinias respond well to hard pruning. So that’s what we did. It has certainly changed the view in that direction.
I have mentioned in other posts a helpful practice in the municipality I call home to haul away “garden waste” once a year. Friday, March 21st is our day, so this week the garden has been a beehive of activity with saws, loppers and secateurs. In addition to the unfortunate photinia, a smoke bush has been trimmed (a nice easy job) and some frighteningly vigorous hollies have been barely held in check. (Hollies are horrible to prune. Nothing genteel there; a kevlar suit is in order). As a finale, three drooping branches were removed from a fir in the back garden. That spot has been opened up, prompting hopes that my never-blooming Chinese witch hazel may actually manage a few blooms next winter.
Awaiting pickup tomorrow is this rather formidable pile of “garden waste.”