Whacking Trees Into Shape A Rite Of Spring

Despite New Year’s resolutions, some bad habits are here to stay.

One of mine is making an annual spring list of things that must be done before Labor Day. I’m not normally a masochist, but there’s something about the lengthening daylight, or the raccoons abandoning the cellar, that leaves me feverishly writing to-do lists.

The lower field needs plowing. The depression in the road needs filling to keep the melting snow from forming Loch Haight again this year (friends have suggested using old car bodies), and I really should try to find out how those raccoons get in the cellar.

Most people I know are afflicted with the Spring List Syndrome.

It makes no difference if it’s witching a well, shoeing a horse or flying to the moon on gossamer wings. When cabin fever reaches hallucinatory temperatures, the urge to get out of the house and do something is overwhelming.

The one item that makes me shudder is on Page 6 under “P.” Just after Procrastinate and just before Pub is the one that can’t be put off: Pruning!

The Spokane Valley was once a green sea of orchards, and unless you happen to live in one of those scorched-earth housing developments, you probably have one or more survivors of that era on your place. If so, pruning may be on your list also.

The following instructions are for the novice pruner. Others in the know will ignore these novel methods and promise not to sue for blather.

If the scientific jargon in most howto books sounds like nuclear physics to you, it may be time to try these methods I’ve garnered over the years from questionable sources that seem to know more about applejack than apple trees. Be warned: My methods are equally chancy whether pruning apples, cherries or kumquats.

Good tools are a must. I suggest two armloads.

You’ll need hand pruning shears, lopping shears, pruning saw, chainsaw, and a pole pruner. A pot of tar is useful for daubing on stumps larger than a fingernail, and staunching self-inflicted chainsaw wounds. Add to these, a pocketknife, hatchet, pruning tape, stepladder, first-aid kit, and heavy clothing for protection as you fall through those pointy branches.

Remember: Like a banker building a doghouse, you can never have too many tools.

Before leaving the house, you might want to put your affairs in order and set the speed-dialer on 911. I always warn my wife, if she sees me lying beneath the tree, I’m not snoozing.

Now that you have staggered up to the victim, the easy part begins.

If this is your first sortie, fear not. The tree is alive and tough as nails. You can make it ugly, but you probably won’t kill it unless you saw it off at ground level, and with locust trees, even this won’t work.

Some people like their fruit trees tall, some prefer them round. I like them short, for easy picking. So, I recommend whacking off everything over 12 feet off the ground.

Next, go after the suckers, those green switches growing like radio antennas, from every limb. A good rule of thumb is: If it grows straight up or straight down, clip it off.

After the suckers, go for anything that is dead. If it won’t grow leaves, it won’t grow apples (or whatever). Remove limbs and branches that cross or rub; they just take up space and endanger one another. Make clean cuts, and don’t be afraid to open the tree up to let sunlight in.

My neighbor trims his trees into neat umbrella shapes. He’s a genius. Try as I might, mine tend to look like something that would throw apples at Dorothy in the land of Oz. But the truth is, mine produce just as many apples as his.

It is advisable to have all your pruning done before the sap begins to run, so if the snowman is nothing but a ball cap and a carrot, it is time to gird your loins and get whacking on those trees.

Remember, if your first efforts don’t produce a work of art, don’t despair.

Next year you get to do it all over again.