Over the last couple of days I have been pruning the trees in our yard. There is both art and science involved in pruning, as well as a fair amount of craft.
My pruning spree was precipitated by a violent windstorm a month ago that split off a large bole of a box elder along the northern border of our property. This thing constituted about a third of the entire crown of the tree. The wind was out of the northwest (the worst wind usually is around here) and when it came down this gigantic limb merely clipped off the corner of the neighbor’s garage (taking the gutter with it) and pierced the top of a former chicken coop in a few places. It could have been worse.
My neighbors talked with their insurance company and evidently were told that because we were not told by any expert that our tree was diseased or weakened, the downing of the limb was an “act of God” and we were not liable. Their insurance company apparently would only pay for damages on their property and we would have to pay to have both the tree and the limb removed. The rest of the tree had to go because the whole side of the trunk had been ripped off and exposed.
The removal of this tree left a huge hole in the vegetation between our property and the neighbors and also exposed how rag-tag the remaining vegetation was. Once I started looking at that border I couldn’t help noticing that the thornless honey locust cultivar trees on the island in the middle of our U-shaped driveway also needed some limb removals.
It is June and if these were fruit trees it would be a bad time to be pruning. Fruit trees are usually pruned in the late winter because all of their energy is stored in their roots during the dormant season. Removal of the portions of the tree while keeping the stored energy constant causes vigorous growth in the spring.
Summer pruning should be done only to thin growth and should not be done after July (to reduce the danger of winter damage). The goal of pruning a fruit tree is to make it short and stocky so that it is able to bear the weight of a lot of fruit.
The practical point of pruning is to remove all dead, damaged and diseased wood. That was very much a part of my recent pruning episode. The honey locusts on our property are some sort of cultivar. There are no thorns on them and the leaves are a light golden-green. They are also extremely susceptible to die-back. The native honey locust is a warmer weather plant, originally found in the lower Mississippi valley. The widespread planting of honey locusts as ornamentals rather baffles me because they are so messy; they are constantly shedding twigs, leaves, branches and pieces of bark.
I must say that I can’t remember the last time I climbed a tree. I used to do it all the time when I was a kid. We had a huge Norway spruce and a white pine on our property and my brother and I used to climb them just for the privacy. When I climbed the honey locust with my clippers and bow saw, I confess that I very much felt like the out of shape middle-aged man that I am. It is a sobering experience to do something in middle age that you did so effortlessly as a kid and feel the strain on all your body parts.
I made my way up as far as I dared go (not as high as I would have gone as a kid) and began to clip off all the dead branches on the inside of the crown. It had the effect of making it look cleaner and neater in there. Making my way down to the lower limbs I began removing the branches that had been driving me nuts when I mowed underneath and had been brushing the roofs of cars as they drove past.
In the end the tree looked more graceful and somehow more defined. The trunk divides about four feet from the ground and the removal of the lower limbs gave the locust a vaguely Africa veldt appearance (it is vaguely related to the acacia).
The next big job was the alder clump that the removal of the box elder had revealed to be almost entirely dead. There are three clumps planted about 10 or 15 feet apart between the driveway and the northern border of the lot. It must have been an attractive screen once upon a time, but the incursion of the usual “volunteer” trees along the boundary had shaded them and made them leggy. They also appeared to have contracted some sort of fungal disease that was causing a great deal of die-back.
Because our neighbor would like her privacy I cannot remove the volunteer maples that are now shading out the alders. The sudden disappearance of the box elder (a soft maple), however, has introduced a lot more light to their vicinity again. I set about cutting back the nearly dead clump closest to the former location of the box elder.
If the disease is throughout the plant, including the roots, then they are probably all goners, but I cut the trunks down to about four inches above the soil hoping to take the disease with them. I first cut them off at about waist high because the splaying habit of the clump puts the trunks further apart there and easier to get at. Then I made my way across the crew-cut clump stumps making room to cut down successive stumps with the removal of their outside neighbors. This two-stage approach also reduced the danger of splitting at the final cut from the weight of the entire trunk falling at once.