Getting Started with Pruning My Crown of Thorns
So, there it was. My Crown of Thorns. Looking less like a crown and more like a tangled mess of angry sticks. You know how it is, you look at it one day and think, “I should really do something about that.” Then a month later, it’s still there, mocking you. This thing had been getting on my nerves for a while, all leggy and just generally unkempt. Barely any flowers, just long, spiky arms reaching out like it wanted to grab the mailman.
Honestly, I put it off. Who wants to wrestle with something called “Crown of Thorns”? Sounds like a bad time waiting to happen. I remember when I first got it, so small and cute. Now? A proper beast. My neighbor, old Mrs. Henderson, she’s got a perfect one, always blooming. Mine looked like it was going through a rebellious phase. She even asked me once, real sweet-like, “Is your plant feeling alright, dear?” Yeah, that was the final push. Can’t have Mrs. Henderson thinking I’m a plant murderer.
Time to Get Serious (Sort Of)
Right, so I decided, today’s the day. First things first, protection. You absolutely need good gloves. Not those flimsy little cotton things. I’m talking heavy-duty, leather, almost welder-grade gloves. I’ve got this pair I bought after a rather nasty encounter with a rose bush a few years back – nearly lost a finger, or at least it felt like it. Still got a faint scar. These plants don’t play around.
- Thick gloves: Check.
- Sharp bypass pruners: Check. Had to sharpen them myself, the pair I usually use for lighter stuff just wouldn’t cut it, literally.
- Old newspaper: To catch the mess. And believe me, there’s always a mess.
I also grabbed a long-sleeved shirt. Experience talking there. One time, years ago with a different thorny terror, I ended up looking like I’d arm-wrestled a cat. A very angry, very large cat.
The Actual Snipping and Hoping for the Best
Okay, suited up, tools ready. I took a good, long look at the plant. It’s like giving a bad haircut, you know? You hesitate before that first snip. Where to even start? I decided to go for the really long, gangly stems first. The ones that were just bare for ages and then had a tiny tuft of leaves at the end. Useless.
So, I started cutting. Snip. White, milky sap immediately oozed out. Nasty stuff, that sap. Irritating. That’s another reason for the gloves and long sleeves. You don’t want that on your skin. I made sure to cut at a slight angle, about an inch or so above a leaf node or a branching point. Read that somewhere, supposed to help it heal and branch out nicely. We’ll see.
Some branches were thicker than I thought. Had to really put some muscle into the pruners. And the thorns, man. Even with the thick gloves, you can feel them. They just want to get you. I was trying to be strategic, aiming to get more light into the center of the plant and give it a better shape. It’s not like I’m a professional plant stylist or anything. More like hacking away with a vague idea of what “better” looks like.
I took off quite a bit. Probably about a third of its overall scraggliness. There were a few moments where I paused, thinking, “Have I gone too far? Is it going to survive this brutality?” It looked a bit naked and sorry for itself afterwards, all stubby and exposed. Like when you give your dog a summer haircut and it looks embarrassed for a week.
The Aftermath and the Waiting Game
Cleaned up all the cuttings – carefully, because those thorns are still out for blood even when they’re detached. Put them straight into the yard waste. I didn’t bother trying to propagate them this time. Too much hassle, and frankly, I don’t need more of these spiky things just yet.
Then, the waiting game. That’s always the hardest part with plants. You do all this work, and then you just have to trust it’ll bounce back. I moved it to a spot where it gets good light, kept an eye on the watering, but mostly just left it alone to recover from the shock. For a week or two, it just sat there, looking a bit pathetic. I was starting to think maybe Mrs. Henderson’s silent judgment was justified.
But then! Little green nubs started appearing near the cuts. New growth! It’s always a relief, that. Slowly, it started to fill out. And you know what? A few weeks later, more flowers started appearing than I’d seen in ages. Bright red ones. So, it actually worked. The beast was tamed, somewhat.
It’s still not quite Mrs. Henderson’s prize-winner, but it’s a heck of a lot better. Sometimes you just gotta be brave, grab the tools, and tackle the thorny problems in life, eh? Even if it’s just a plant. Feels good when it works out. Now, what to tackle next… maybe that overgrown hedge that’s been giving me the side-eye. Or maybe I’ll just have a cup of tea. Probably the tea.
