Pruning for Growth: Cutting Back to Move Forward

Two summers ago I stood in front of the beautiful limelight hydrangea tree that I had never pruned before.  The year before the blooms had been massive - over a foot long in some cases - but they were SO big that all of the branches stooped from the weight and once it rained, many snapped.  We weren't going to do that again but man, did it feel intimidating to make those snips - what if I messed this tree's life up?!!  What if I ruined it?  Spoiler alert - I didn't it and it was SO. MUCH. BETTER.

I was looking back at how my Letters from Erin started and they began in my garden.  And this past weekend it was time to prune my limelight again.  There's something about lopping off branches - especially those that once held beautiful blooms - that feels counterintuitive.  But if there's one thing I've learned about gardening (and life), it's that growth requires pruning.   

With each careful snip, I was reminded that sometimes you have to cut back in order to move forward.  Even when it's painful. 

while stunning, these are the massive beauties that nearly took down the entire tree

I don't know about you, but I often have a deep-seated instinct to hold on—to keep what’s familiar, what has already bloomed, what once brought me joy. But here’s the thing about my hydrangea tree: if I don't prune it, it'll literally tear itself apart.  

How often do we cling to things - habits, commitments, relationships, concepts in general - long past their prime? Not because they’re bad, but because the purpose they once served is no longer relevant. And, what got us here isn’t always what will get us there - to the next place we're meant to go.

That said, there’s an art to pruning - you have to know what to cut. Cut too much, and you can stunt growth. Cut too little, and you’re left with a tangled, overcrowded plant struggling for air, weighted down by its beauty.  

Lately, I’ve been asking myself:
✨ What’s taking up space but not adding value?
✨ What’s blocking new growth in my life?
✨ What have I outgrown, even if it once served me well?

On one hand, it's really uncomfortable to think about.  On the other, it means growth is on the horizon if I'm willing to let go of what I need to release.

As I finished pruning, I stepped back and looked at my limelight tree. It looked… bare. A little stark. But I know that in just a few months, it’ll burst into lush, full life—stronger and healthier because of what I removed.

That’s the other hard part about pruning. The waiting.  There’s a gap between the cutting and the blooming - where it seems like nothing is happening, did I make a mistake?, did I ruin it? maybe I should have just left it how it was.  

But I can tell you from experience, with limelights anyhow, that you'll get stronger branches, a taller tree, and even more blooms than you had before.  

So, here’s to pruning - the careful, sometimes uncomfortable act of thoughtfully letting go. It’s not always easy, and the in-between can feel uncertain. But when summer comes and the blooms return, their weight won't pull them to the ground. When the rain falls, the branches won’t snap. Instead, they’ll shake off the drops and stand tall, stronger than before - rooted, resilient, and ready for the next season of growth.  Just like us 🩷.