I finally got around to trimming back the lavender and also tackling some of the rogue weeds and brush that are trying to take over the farm. I kept hinting to Hubs that it needed to be done, hoping he would take the initiative but it wasn’t looking to promising. My hinting conversations went like this:
Me: The willows from the pond are starting to come into the orchard. They’re going to choke out the trees.
Me: The blackberries are starting to grow through the chicken fence. We should do something about that.
Hubs: Yeah, they sure are.
Me: The lavender really needs to be cut back but it’s covered in bees. I hope I don’t get stung.
Hubs: Be careful.
He really doesn’t enjoy the endless job of pruning back the out of control summer growth. I get it. It’s not my favorite thing to do either. The blackberries and willow are a never ending battle and the chore of fighting them back into some form of temporary submission is a thankless job. The lavender on the other hand, I enjoy working with and I usually collect it to use throughout the year, but being highly allergic to bees usually deters me from actually wanting to go play with the shrubs. I’ve learned that a turf war with the bees is not in my best interest for self preservation.
Most years, I’ll go out very late at night or super early before the bee activity gets to busy and gather my lavender to cook with, add to the tops of my soaps or put in my wines. This year I left the blossoms for the bees. After two hive swarms I figured the hives could use all the flower food they could get…..at least that’s the excuse I used to explain not getting out there sooner. However, the lavender flowers are on their last legs and it is well past time to clean up the plants to prepare for winter.
Grumblings under my breath about risking my life to cut back the bee magnets I headed outside. I freely admit I was not having kind thoughts toward Hubs at this point. I waded right into the fray and started cutting with wild abandon. I also admit that since cutting the lavender back is not my favorite thing to do, I kind of suck at it. My finished shrubs usually look like they went a round or two with a weedwhacker rather than having undergone a loving hand trim. About the time I finished the row of lavender bushes Hubs drove by. He slowed and looked at my handiwork, yelling “they look really good honey. They look like turtles.”
I looked back at the shrubs, studying them, trying to see what he saw and just couldn’t. To me, they looked like uneven, amateurly butchered, roundish blobs. I looked back at Hubs to see if he was joking, but no, his face was quite serious. I looked back to the shrub slightly perplexed. We were looking at the same thing but seeing something totally different. After a few minutes, I finally gave up trying to figure it out. Hey, if my husband happens to think that I’m talented enough to artistically prune shrubs into animals shapes, I’m not going to argue. I’m going to embrace that we see things differently and be grateful that he has such a beautiful view of my otherwise questionable pruning skills. That my friends is love. It colors our views and changes our perceptions and I for one am ever so grateful.