My husband has been pruning the trees in our yard like a madman. His inner woodsman has been unleashed and he is trimming trees and bushes like no tomorrow.
Needless to say, I came home from work last night to find my favorite bush trimmed like the butch haircuts that the boys of my youth sported in the 1950's. I was crestfallen......... We had one of those marital moments when he was disappointed that I was sad and I was trying like crazy to let the moment pass. After all, it was done, over, kaput. There was no use in going down the slippery slope of a yucky marital dance of blame, shame and guilt. In the spirit of full disclosure, I did whine, "But I loved that bush." I may have said, "How could you have done that without talking with me first?" And, I think he said something like, "Well, I was inspired by your trimming of the Forsythia bushes last spring. They grew back wonderfully and look beautiful!" Trumped but not convinced, I got on with my night.
I loved the chaos of that bush. The lovely way it flowed over the flowers underneath. The unruly dynamic of growth that felt like a metaphor for certain times of life. Order in chaos, growth despite harsh weather, hardiness and tenacity all spoke to me of life and change.
We all go through times when we prune our lives down. We switch careers, let go of certain friends, release a decaying marriage, send our kids off to find themselves, downsize our living situation. Personal pruning hurts it clears the dying undergrowth of our lives, which makes way for new growth and new life pathways.
My husband is probably right about the bush. Guess I'll let my curiosity about what it will look like by the end of the summer carry me through. In the meantime, I am thankful for having had that unruly beast of a bush for so long.