Pruning, Desert Style

Yep, it's that time again. Not by the calendar, necessarily, but because I feel like it. The jewelry projects are done... for now. Time for a change. The knees are just fine as long as I don't have to get up off the floor. No pain, stamina returning. My docs all tell me it's time for more activity, and they aren't talking chaining. So it's out in the yard.

I can see the messes that need attention. This is after we hired the usual crew in to blow the crap off of it and leave it looking clean, remembering to clean out the cactus that will sprout and grow each year from the edge of the patio roof. A little watering needs to happen, since our two combined rainfalls in the last six months totaled under an inch, meager even for here. Stuff has died back and needs trimming. But the most trimming needed is for the palo verde.

This is truly a desert survivor. It's the one palo verde that always, no matter how old and venerable, maintains green bark. When we were ready to put trees in the back yard, and the Desert Botanical Gardens had its semi-annual plant show/fundraiser, this is the one their staff recommended. They just forgot to mention one little, teensy, bitty thing. Every branch, no matter how tiny and close or far from the trunk, ends in a thorn. A woody thorn. So when it stabs you, there's a real message behind it.

Now pretty much everything that grows wild down here has thorns or spines, even the orange trees which I'm pretty sure are imports. Supposedly they protect the plants. Javelinas munch on prickly pear, uprooting and scattering whole clumps of them in a single night's feeding, and if they didn't manage to destroy it all, they're back the next night to finish the job. I'm an eyewitness, from a short stay in Sedona. Birds drill homes in saguaros, rabbits go right through damn near everything seemingly without being deterred by anything the plant can bring to bear.

All of which leaves me to wonder what use are all those thorns, anyway? I'd suspect their real function is to keep us soft-skinned humans away, but I am pretty sure they evolved long before we arrived.

It does tend to work, however. We nicknamed our palo verde "the thorn tree", since it's easier to remember than "foothills palo verde" and we both know exactly which tree we're referring to. It's the first thing in the back yard we put solar lights around so we could warn ourselves exactly where not to go in the dark. By the time the lights died, we knew very well what area to avoid, and the tree had grown tall enough to see against the never-dark sky over Phoenix.

I actually like pruning my own yard plants. I can control how they get shaped, and it's a reasonably pleasant activity. It was onerous for several years due to my knees, and this one was particularly bad because sitting next to the tree on a chair put my head in the exact perfect position to get stabbed by everything on the young tree. We're both better now, me more mobile and the tree thornless to a higher level, so that's not so much of an issue. Still, I have to approach it carefully and thoughtfully, properly gloved and brandishing loppers instead of hand pruners. Plus, I just have to be in the right mood for it. Mild temperatures and orange blossom season make an ideal time to find a reason to enjoy the back yard.

There is a little madness to my method. I've been trying to choose the right branches to keep to maintain a multi-trunked support for the canopy. This means they twist here and there, but always away from the center. I like the look. When you plant a tree because you like the trunk, and this is the kind of trunk the tree provides you by forking all over the place, you better have decided before hand that this is the  look you want. If not, choose a different tree.

This look takes a lot of study before cutting. It's more than just the final shape. It's where the cut branches fall. Onto you is pretty much a big no-no. Onto the ground where you have to step next for the branch you cut is not helpful either. Now you're probably thinking, hey, she could just haul the cut branches away from the tree and keep going. Yeah, maybe. But that's work. And I'm not in the habit. Besides, there's one other thing to keep in mind. Those branches stay on the ground around the tree for a couple of days after cutting.

Yes, on purpose. It's not just that I'm tired and ready for something different after finishing the tree. But two things happen in those couple of days. The rabbits come in and eat the tenderer bits of green bark off of them, and this is where they are used to feeding: this tree valiantly keeps trying to send new shoots up from near ground level, and everything that emerges through the chicken wire is reduced to bare wood. Second, the branches dry out. Both things result in a significant loss of weight in what I have to haul over to the patio for processing for disposal.

Our garbage company has no problem hauling away whatever you prune. That is, so long as their employees never need to become acquainted with any of the pointy ends of any of it.

I can't blame them.

So, depending on what you're sending out, ropes, bags, or boxes are required. Several months ago we had something delivered in a large box. Rather than recycling and getting rid of the clutter, I insisted Steve keep the box for just this purpose. This means this big pile of thorns has to get cut again, into smaller bits that fit into this box so it can be sealed up with nothing poking out. That's another few hours' job.

At least for this one I can  mostly sit. There is a very sturdy low oak coffee table out there, built by my late father-in-law to withstand anything his two growing sons could try to do with it. When it was time to tear down the old farmhouse, our family was invited to come down for whatever we wanted between their picking through for themselves, and the auction to sell off the rest. Mostly we raided the library.  I asked for the table. It still is in great condition, though I am beginning to think that in this dryness it could stand another coating of the spar varnish Bob put on it decades ago. Otherwise, it's still solid as a rock, nary a wobble anywhere, and makes a great place for all those shaded outdoor projects.

So, box, table, loppers and hand pruners, and two sets of suede work gloves ready to go. The goal is to, well first, not get any new holes in me, and second, trim down all those gazillion branching pokey bits so they not just fit into the box but don't catch on each other and refuse to compact down to manageable size. Fortunately, after three years I have  system. It's more enjoyable with Steve sitting out with me while eating his breakfast, so both of us can enjoy the neighborhood birds and peak of orange blossom season. The job improves even more once I dispose of the heavy gloves. The best pruner for this job is meant for a man's hand. So are the gloves. Together they are almost impossible to use, and I've figured out how to avoid getting poked. The only thorn I have under my skin when the job is done is left over from the original pruning, and if it ever bothers me, I'll go find a needle one of these days.

The one thing almost impossible to avoid is keeping the smallest branches from going flying as they are cut, rather than dropping obediently into the box. Since the branches have dried for a couple days, the cuts finish with a snap, and it's never a guarantee which direction they go, even when I hold the big branch down inside the box. So the last part of the task is getting out the broom and dustpan and sweeping up the pine needles which have accumulated on the patio in the last couple of strong winds. Not only do I get up any stray palo verde thorns, the pine straw goes in the box on top of all the branches, keeping them from either showing or escaping when the trash guys pick the box up. And the patio hasn't looked this good since... well, nevermind.

This huge full box now weighs a total of about two pounds. It's going to sit out in the carport until the night before garbage pickup, so the wind won't blow it into the neighbor's yard. I don't think it would be quite the wonderful present they might expect if they chose to open it.

Damn! That tree looks good now!