Please forgive the delayed delivery of this post. Unforeseen circumstance on my end have me writing to you from a public space today instead of my office, but I was determined to get this message to you as soon as possible. Thank you for being patient and hanging with me.

How’s your summer going? I hope you’re getting to do all the things that make it a memorable one. When I was growing up, my folks had a garden every year. I haven’t strictly adhered to that tradition, but I like to grow flowers and edibles when I can.

This year, container gardening is turning out to be a little tougher. My collection of pots line the inside of a white wood balcony that mirrors our neighbor’s balconies across a green space. My seedlings always start out well. The Blue Pumpkin seeds grew into giant elephant ear sized leaves. Purple potato vines and prolific tomato bushes add to that soft green “privacy fence” throughout the summer. Large colorful pots stationed atop five-gallon buckets holding geraniums and marigolds further personalizes a space I spend a lot of time in. When I sit out there to write or read, I’m pretty well hidden.

The vine of the Blue Pumpkin grew lush very quickly. The flesh of which is twice as thick as regular pumpkins, with nice fat seeds. It’s delicately sweet and wonderful for making thick soup, and even pumpkin “steaks.” Think butternut squash only about eight more pounds of vegetable to work with. The first to appear was about the size of a big marble

As the vine branched off in other directions and the first pumpkin turned yellow and fell off. For a while, the plant grew only blossoms, which I batter fried and made into a nice side dish. Vibrant new growth left withering yellow leaves in its wake, as though only four feet of vine could be healthy at any given time. Then I noticed each day the entire plant became a paler shade of green. Overnight the blossoms turned bitter.

It took most of the summer to realize one section of meandering offshoot was not going to produce fruit. Once the third tiny pumpkin fell off, I had to make a decision. If I trimmed off six or seven feet of wilting vine, I might possibly save the rest of the plant. I apologized to the plant and–snip!

I did wonder how the plant felt about this, but the next day, it greened up nicely. Within ten days, there were three small pumpkins looking fat and healthy. The leaves are smaller, but I’d rather have big pumpkins.

On my tomato vines, I trimmed off unnecessary branches and suckers (did you know they were edible?) again causing the energy to surge into the fruit. Little yellow pear tomatoes popped out all over and the small Romas grew big and fat. Obviously, this isn’t new plant science. Despite my initial hesitation to cut back overgrowth, it always pays off. I’m always surprised by the exponential result.

It caused me to consider how this pruning can be applied to other areas? Where am I expending energy on wilting ideas or fruitless endeavors? At times, I’ve had to cut out the things that were stagnant or time draining, which didn’t provide the return on investment I’d hoped for. Sometimes I had to prune certain activities, trim commitments and various associations. Those things might even be enjoyable, but it just isn’t the best use of time. It’s not always easy. Sometimes those less fruitless things can be moved to another tier where they may pass away of natural causes. Even if the growth looks great, and the leaves are elephantine, is it creating the fruit you hoped for? Lots of greenery but little fruit? Some pruning could be in order.

An area where I’ve done a lot of pruning is how and where I spend my time. Working as a volunteer, I was quickly placed on a team with a person of some renown. The original project I’d signed on for was quickly usurped by a special—and much more time-consuming—project outside of my area of interest and expertise. Even with great co-volunteers, I soon became frustrated There were fans who might have given their left arm to be on this team. That didn’t make the work any sweeter to me. I realized I couldn’t continue when other areas of my life were being negatively affected. I wrote this person a letter, gave my reasons for stepping down and lopped off six feet of bitter blossoms and wilting vine.

Part of being an encourager isn’t only heartening others but having the integrity to recognize a bad fit. By stepping out of the way, I allowed them to find someone better suited to the task. By the judicious pruning away of energy-draining offshoots, our energy can be diverted to people or projects we are more passionate about.

Is there an area in your week that you find is physically, spiritually or emotionally draining? What aspects of your life are affected? How could your situation or relationships improve by pruning?

Thanks for stopping by! I look forward to seeing you next time!