Making passes and incantations
One of the things I do for a living is pruning. Not the hedge-trimmer kind -- the kind where you need a good eye, and a brain, and an understanding of a plant's needs. Fruit trees are most of what I end up pruning, though I once spent eight hours doing renovation pruning on an old grape arbor. I occasionally turn my hand to ornamentals as well.
With fruit trees, I practice visual subtraction, picturing what it would look like without a specific piece. Each tree is different, based on species, size, and the layout of its major branches. Each species has preferences for how it should be laid out for good exposure and bearing. I can usually assess a tree and work out the general strategy for what to do, and then all it takes is to subtract the rest.
Most other plants (roses, olives, ceanothus, butterfly bush) are similar. I can easily see which branches and twigs need to go in order to get the desired result. But Japanese maples are different.
Small Japanese maples should be light and airy, with good branch structure visible through smooth tiers of leaves. Untended, they turn into shaggy masses. There are a few different varieties, which make for variations in the leaf size and branch structure. But for whatever reason, I can't look at a small maple and immediately see what needs to be pruned out. I can see that something has to go, but all candidates seem equally likely.
As a result, I fall back on technique. I know the basic principles of pruning maples, and the rules that come from them. I start following those rules, even though I don't think the changes will have any effect -- and voila, it works. It's like witchcraft. Prune off the twigs underneath the horizontal branch? I can't see how that would -- huh. That's really much better.
It doesn't do the whole job, but it gets about 90% of the changes done, and at that point I can put my finger on the remaining trouble spots. For someone who is used to doing it all by feel, this paint-by-numbers approach is weird. But (having done four maples just today) I can't argue with results.
With fruit trees, I practice visual subtraction, picturing what it would look like without a specific piece. Each tree is different, based on species, size, and the layout of its major branches. Each species has preferences for how it should be laid out for good exposure and bearing. I can usually assess a tree and work out the general strategy for what to do, and then all it takes is to subtract the rest.
Most other plants (roses, olives, ceanothus, butterfly bush) are similar. I can easily see which branches and twigs need to go in order to get the desired result. But Japanese maples are different.
Small Japanese maples should be light and airy, with good branch structure visible through smooth tiers of leaves. Untended, they turn into shaggy masses. There are a few different varieties, which make for variations in the leaf size and branch structure. But for whatever reason, I can't look at a small maple and immediately see what needs to be pruned out. I can see that something has to go, but all candidates seem equally likely.
As a result, I fall back on technique. I know the basic principles of pruning maples, and the rules that come from them. I start following those rules, even though I don't think the changes will have any effect -- and voila, it works. It's like witchcraft. Prune off the twigs underneath the horizontal branch? I can't see how that would -- huh. That's really much better.
It doesn't do the whole job, but it gets about 90% of the changes done, and at that point I can put my finger on the remaining trouble spots. For someone who is used to doing it all by feel, this paint-by-numbers approach is weird. But (having done four maples just today) I can't argue with results.
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