Pruning Roses

Ever since this past fall I have thought our rose bushes out front needed a trim, and pruning is usually best done before it gets too warm outside.  So in a brief period of productive procrastination on a pleasantly warm afternoon a few weeks back I decided I should prune them.  Now, pruning is serious business.  First you need a sharp tool because you don't want to crush or tear the stalk; this invites problems.  Clean cuts are best for most things like life, whether it be plants, flesh or even emotions.  Second, you should probably allow for some time - don't rush it.  Third, know how and where to cut.  Cut the stalk at an angle - not straight if you can avoid it; above and near new or potentially new growth.  

Fourth, and hardest, you need to know what you want your rose bush to look like.  Lastly, related to this point, you need foresight - you don't need to know, or care for that matter, what you want the bush to look like at the end of that day, nor even the end of that week.  You need to know what you want that bush to look like for the remainder of its life.  In this, as I stared at the bush with on again and off again indecision, I was thinking about what it is I do with purpose that creates the 'me' not of today or next Friday but of years from now.  This got me to thinking about raising kids.  I wondered if I would have the same struggle choosing where to trim and prune for the purpose of shape, direction and growth with children as I did with my rose bush.  After all, what I trim today stops one potential bush from coming into being and brings another to life.  Years from now.  

Just then a neighbor walked by, returning home for lunch.  She said hello and said she couldn't believe I was pruning rose bushes without gloves on.  While it was a short, passing comment, I thought about this for a bit and decided that I liked doing it without gloves more than with gloves.  If for no other reason than that they seem to get in the way.  Just then I was brought back to the job at hand as I was stuck, for the fourth time, by a thorn.  Seemed somewhat poetic that the bush I was pruning stuck it to me again despite my best efforts.  But then again, they are not people or children lacking the foresight to the pruner.  They are rose bushes.