The staging area, early morning

That's a picture of my seed-starter trays, sitting on top of the countertop in my study, awaiting the day I will fill them with peat, seeds, and water. It's tempting to do it now, simply because I am tired of the cold and wet and gray, and starting the seeds would make me feel like there is an end to it all. I know in my head that winter days won't go on forever, but my heart and my head don't alway speak the same language.

Where is my Lubbock? The winter days that are crisp, but not too cold? The high, sunny skies the color of cornflowers? Where are they this year? What the heck is going on here?

It is still too soon to start the seeds here on the Southern High Plains, though, even if they really could chase away the winter grays. If I started them today, they'd be ready to transplant about the middle of March, when the chances of a late hard freeze are still high. Ideally, the seeds shouldn't be started until about 6 weeks before planting, and since the first week of April is traditionally the first week of planting here in LBB--the first week we can safely assume the temperatures won't surprise us with an unwelcome drop on the thermometer--that means that seed starting has to wait until...let's see, let me look at the calender here... February 25th.

Two more weeks. I can hold out for two more weeks.

Tree Pruning, Part Three: Revealing the grace

A tree left alone in nature will grow however it grows, and for the most part, it will do just fine without any human intervention. So except for those circumstances I outlined in Thursday's post where pruning is necessary either for the health of the tree or to protect property, the real reason we like to get out the pruning tools is the same reason we like to poke sticks into steaming compost bins--because we are gardeners, first and foremost, and the acts of gardening are part of a tender, ongoing conversation with the natural world. So then should our tree pruning reflect that.

The photo above and the ones immediately following are a few trees around town in which I think pruning has enhanced the form, or growth habit, of the species, and revealed the inherent grace:

Henrietta upgrades her wardrobe

"It's these new permapress feathers."

Tree Pruning, Part Two: Making the cut

There are many reasons to prune a tree. For example, a broken limb, such as the one in the photo above, should obviously be removed for safety's sake, but branches should also be removed if they are crossing each other, since repeated rubbing between windy branches could damage the bark, a tree's protection against disease.

Trees also are often pruned to allow more light to reach planting beds or lawns below, or to remove branches that hang dangerously over property or electrical lines, or to cull branches with a weak junction to prevent future splitting. And finally, my personal favorite reason to prune trees is to allow the form and shape of the species to show through at its finest.

Tree Pruning, Part One: Safety

A flock of chain saws has moved into the 'hood over the past few days, and we can hear them chattering amongst themselves like the low, muted, FM-voiced mating call of some oddly manic species of bird. It seems that the ice storm has plunged us straight into pruning season, so I thought I might share a post or three on the subject for my friends and neighbors who might be thinking about taking down a branch.

My father taught me how to prune trees many years ago, and I've enjoyed doing it ever since. There's something very satisfying about shaping a tree to grow in an aesthetically pleasing way, so much so that when I run out of pruning chores around my own house, I am hard pressed not to carry my saw with me and lop off errant branches on neighbors' trees, or trees on campus, or along public medians...

Before we get into the nitty gritty of what to remove and how to do it, however, let's cover a few safety tips--some taught to me by my dad, and some I've learned the hard way.