The warm winds from the southwest are returning to the heartland, hastening the arrival of spring. The cardinals and chickadees have started to sing their spring mating calls. The species crocus have broken ground on the south side of the house, and will bloom soon, maybe even today. The earth is waking up from its winter slumber. And it is time for me to go and prune the apple tree out east of our house.
Many years ago, my father-in-law gave us this apple tree. It was an old variety that had been highly popular back at the turn of the century. He had bought one for them, and one for us.
When it came time to prune the tree, I did not know how to do it. He told me to remove the suckers, the broken branches, and the limbs that crossed other branches. He told me to save the fruiting spurs where the buds were.
As I stood and looked at the tree, I had no idea where to start, because I had never pruned an apple tree. It was not something that we did when I grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia as a child. We got our apples from the store.
So, my father-in-law came up, and we started pruning the tree together. Slowly, I learned the difference between a sucker and a fruiting spur. But I struggled in the pruning process, because I could not envision what the tree was going to become from the pruning we were doing.
In particular, he told me to “prune for what the tree will become; what it will grow into, not just for what it looks like right now.” I never really grasped this concept when he told me this, because I could not envision the clipping of a branch here or a limb there and how that would result in a full grown tree. In essence, I could not see the fully mature tree within the sapling that we started with on that sunny spring day.
Finally, he told me that when you are done pruning, “you should be able to toss a basketball through the center of the tree, and never have it hit any limbs.” Then he proceeded to help me to achieve this outcome. Not every year, but over the course of multiple years, he would come and help me to prune this tree.
And each fall, the tree would produce lots of apples. Some years we were bountiful, and other years it was sparse. He told me this was normal, and to keeping pruning every spring.
Late in his life, we talked about our apple tree. He shared that he was not that impressed with this old apple variety. It did not turn out quality apples like other varieties. I was glad to hear this as I felt the same way about it. Since we did not spray the tree every year, many of the apples were of poor quality. We used some of them, but most of the apples I would pitch over the fence to our neighbor’s two horses who were delighted to be eating them.
Each spring, I dutifully pruned the apple tree. It was nearly a six hour process including the clean-up. My hand was always sore from clipping so many parts of the tree. And each fall, the apples kept coming.
Then, one spring after my father-in-law had passed away, I decided to stop pruning the apple tree in the spring. I didn’t really like the apples and it was a lot of work.
That year and for quite a few years, the apple tree took off like a rocket. It grew and grew, and we were overwhelmed by apples. The harvest was massive. The horses were over joyed and our neighbors even came and harvested the tree, taking the best apples to town to share with people who were less fortunate. I was delighted with this outcome.
But late one winter morning, I realized that the tree had gotten so big that it blocked my view to the east. I could not see the field behind our house where the horses gave birth to their spring foals. I could not see the place where the hawks came to sit and look for prey in the tall grass. I could not see the sunrise as well on an early spring morning.
So, I went out with my clippers and my saw, and gave the old apple tree a massive haircut. It was a multi-day process, and in the end, all that was left were the fruiting spurs and a gnarled and twisted old trunk. The tree had moved from being a wild one to a more cultivated and cared for one. As a result, the harvest was less, but the view to the east was much better.
This late winter, I again decided to go out and prune the tree. It was not going to be a massive haircut like years before but it was going to be a pruning cycle that took a fair bit of time and energy. However, this time, I had a different purpose in mind.
First, this spring, I wanted to enjoy the pruning process, not just the outcome. I wanted the goal to be enjoying the time outside in the spring, and being with the tree and in the tree as I pruned. I wanted to take more time to marvel at the miracle of spring and the beauty of this old apple tree. It may or may not produce lots of apples, but, as I slowly pruned the tree, I realized that it had grown and survived many a harsh winter, and, at times, some poor pruning decisions on my part.
Second, I did not frame up the tree as just an apple tree that would produce apples. It also was a tree that had the potential to be the home for a great tree house if the grandchildren ever deemed this to be something that they wanted to create. As I stood on the ground and looked up into the tree, and as I moved my step ladder around the tree, I could envision an awesome tree house in and around the multiple main branches coming off the solid trunk. And this gave me great joy.
My late father-in-law could envision the tree fully grown when it was just a sapling and then prune accordingly. I never grasped this concept in the beginning, but now I can envision it becoming a special place for the grandchildren. And one day, they may climb up into that old tree, pick and eat an apple, and enjoy the view from on high.
Then, I will smile from ear to ear with tears streaming down my face. For on that day, I will see what my father-in-law saw so many years ago, and be blessed by the gift he gave us.
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