Evergreen Tree Trimming and Removal Service
Thinning and pruning easter
This is an excerpt from the Book called “The Art Of Creative Pruning” by Jake Hobson. Continue reading to learn more about Thinning and pruning easter, thanks to the author.
Thinning
One area of Japanese pruning that seems to be largely overlooked by the rest of the world is that of thinning. The fact that it has not become widely incorporated into gardens in the West, like cloud pruning or karikomi, is not surprising, as it is far less tangible within a garden, but nevertheless it is an important part of the Japanese gardener’s repertoire, with plenty to offer gardeners in the West.
In the tsuboniwa (small courtyard gardens) and especially the roji (tea gardens), thinned trees are used extensively to create dappled shade and the feel of woodland areas (the term roji can be translated as dewy path, conjuring up images of damp, mossy forests). In this technique, conifers such as pines, podocarps, as well as evergreens and deciduous trees are all pruned to preserve their natural form but still filter light through to the enclosed spaces.
Evergreen oaks and their relatives, such as Quercus myrsinifolia, Q.acuta, Lithocarpus densiflorus and L.edulis, as well as hollies such as Ilex pedunculosa and I.integra and other, better known shrubs (to Western gardeners, that is) such as Aucuba japonica, Camellia japonica and Pteris japonica are all heavily thinned in Japan (and often, to the uninitiated, appear overly so). The trunk and main branches are defined by removing surplus side branches and any clutter from within the tree: crossing or in-growing branches, dead twigs and old foliage-the usual suspects-and then thinning out any lesser branches that are growing too close together or too regularly.
Maintenance pruning is basically a continuation of the original formative pruning. It involves cutting back and thinning out of new growth, preserving the open structure by removing upward growing shoots and leaving those that grow outwards. Different species behave differently and some will produce epicormic growth around the trunk, which should be removed. In time, by cutting back to the same point each year, the branches start to develop bolls, much as pollarded trees do. This effect is noticeable on some of the older, larger trees-the oaks in particular. If it is not wanted (although personally, I like it) the branch needs to be cut back to a point where a new side shoot can take its place. This is best done as part of a cycle, taking care not to replace too many branches at one time.
What is left ought to look natural, and this is one of the reasons why the importance of thinning has not been fully recognized outside of Japan-it is so hard to pin down, to photograph and to talk about, unlike the azalea karikomi for example, which is far more clear cut. The skill in thinning lies in covering one’s tracks, leaving no footprints, making it one of the hardest techniques to do well. To Western eyes, Japanese gardens can be full of contradictions-the whole business of creating a garden inspired by a landscape, that is so labour intensive and ultimately artificial-and thinning might well be the biggest contradiction of them all.
Conifers such as Crytomeria japonica, Chamaecyparis obtusa, Chamaecyparis pisifera, Cedrus deodara and to a lesser extent Abies firma, are also frequently thinned, often as very large trees. Their natural, spire-like forms and proportions are preserved, but again, as with the evergreens, their density is greatly reduced. Thinning gets rid of the old brown foliage that conifers collect within their branches, which in turn lets light into the body of the tree and allows regeneration within the branches rather than just from the tips.
Why bother with thinning in the garden? Well, if you are keen on evergreens, but find that they soon outgrow their position, thinning is another creative way to solve this problem. Raising, cutting back or clipping might be more obvious answers, but thinning does much to preserve the natural habit of the plant, lightening the load without drastic surgery and still preserving the overall outline of the plant. This technique can be particularly useful in smaller urban gardens, where space is at a premium but so too is privacy. Dense hedges provide privacy but can cast too much shade, while thinned shrubs have a more open feel to them, letting in more light but also preserving their primary screening function. In a more natural-style garden, thinning can be the perfect solution, allowing you all the advantage of evergreens (including year-round foliage) without their some-what overbearing presence (their enormous size often ensures that they will gradually take over the entire garden). Any plant can be thinned, although the results will vary depending on habit, leaf size and smaller details such as whether growth is alternate or opposite (a common practice is to remove one in each pair of opposite-growing branches to create a less intentional, symmetrical feel). Japanese levels of attention are not essential, although once one establishes a method and routine, nor are they inconceivable.
Pine Pruning
Pines are the most important trees in the Japanese garden. Their pruning is an art unto itself, taking years to master. The three species native to Japan, Pinus thunbergii (black pine) P.densiflora (red pine) and P.parviflora (white pine) are all pruned in roughly the same way, although styles vary for different uses and from region to region. Some trees, where size, budget or time dictate, are only pruned once in the year, very heavily, in mid summer. Ideally, however, pruning is a twice-yearly affair, once in late spring or early summer, and then again in the autumn.
When pruning twice in the year, the first prune, known as midoritsumi, involves pinching out the new growth, often referred to as candling. By removing or cutting back this new growth, or candles, all the latent energy that would have been directed into that year’s growth is instead checked, and later manifests itself as a second flush of much shorter, denser growth. There are all sorts of fine points to consider-how many to remove, how far back to remove them, whether to remove more from the top of the tree than the bottom and exactly when to do it. Black pines are the most vigorous and are pruned the most heavily, with the entire candle being pinched out at the base. Red pines are less vigorous so accordingly the candles are pinched out one or two inches (5 cm) from the base. The resulting second flush grows away over the summer (Japanese summers are very hot and humid-if you are trying this in cooler climes, lighter pruning might be called for) and by the autumn, the trees are dense, bushy and in need of more pruning.
The autumn prune, known as momiage, is basically a thinning process, removing the excess of the summer foliage and older needles to open up the branches and let light in. Light is vital because without it, new growth only appears on the outsides of the branches, making it hard to contain their size as they grow. The amount of thinning depends on the region and style, but typically the white pine is thinned the least, as it develops dense, solid branches, while black pines are generally thinned the most-sometimes too much so for Western sensibilities.
October and November are great months to be in Japan-everywhere one goes, there are gardeners up ladders, thinning the pines. A walk around the suburbs or rural areas offers plenty of opportunity to talk to them or take photos. Sumimasen-shashin totte ii desuka? (Excuse me, can I take a photo?) usually works. On our most recent trip to Japan, while staying at Keiko’s brother’s home in a village called Sabi, in Osaka prefecture, I took an early morning walk around the village, and saw a small truck, laden down with tripod ladders, pull into a driveway. I lingered and watched as two men got out, unloaded the ladders, tied white towels around their heads, drank canned coffee and smoked cigarettes-the usual preparation for a manual day’s work all over Japan. This was before eight o’clock, and I decided to leave them to it, but come back later to take photos. On my return, the younger of the two was clipping a Podocarpus macrophyllus, while the other, more experienced gardener, was thinning a black pine. They saw me watching from across the road and called me over, taking the time to chat (my Japanese is not great, but I have had a good bit of practice in these situations). Of course, this being rural Japan, they knew my brother-in-law, who by chance appeared five minutes later to help explain this strange foreigner who was so interested in their daily work.
Branch Training
The idea that the essence of a tree can be imposed artificially, rather than achieved naturally through time, is fundamental to Japanese niwaki. A lot of the magic that seems to go into them is not actually in the pruning, but in their earlier, formative training in the nurseries. There are countless techniques, varying from region to region and species to species, but the basic idea of training branches lies at the root of many of them. Depending on the style of tree, horizontal branches give the impression of the maturity that defines large, old trees growing in the wild-their branches tend to be weighed down by their own weight, eventually naturally assuming a stretched out, horizontal shape.
On the smaller, more artificial scale of niwaki, a helping hand is needed. From a young age, side branches can be trained down using splints and rope, much like fruit trees and pleached hedges are trained in the West.
There is a small degree of science involved here, to do with auxins and growth patterns, but I doubt that the average Japanese nurseryman is interested in that-it is the nitty gritty that concerns them, and us.
Young branches are easily into place by tying them down with string, usually securing it to the trunk below. Japanese gardeners use shuronawa, which is string woven from the hairy trunks of trachycarpus palms, but any kind will do, though preferably one made of natural fibres. Notice how tying your string at different points along the branch will bend the branch in different ways-tie it too near the end of the branch and just the tip will be trained down, rather than the whole branch.
Larger branches need a bamboo splint to help them their way. Simply tie a stout cane along the whole length of the branch, so that the cane reaches slightly beyond the central trunk, then train the splinted branch down as described above. In some cases, surprisingly thick branches of older trees can also be retrained, sometimes in situ in the garden, but more often at a nursery. The process is a highly sculptural one, as the branches are wrapped with rope to provide a splint-like casing to prevent damage. Posts are then propped up underneath the wrapped branches to provide resistance as they are gradually trained down using a pulley system. One variation of this technique involves intentionally cracking the bark of the branch to allow more movement, and then re-setting it over time-not a job for the faint hearted. Interestingly, the rural European tradition of hedge laying relies on a similar technique, that of cutting the trunks of young saplings, before laying the trunks down along the ground for new growth to shoot from.
Within the garden, a more gradual training of branches can be achieved by pruning alone. In these cases, the branch is directed not by ropes or splints, but by selective pruning, removing the main leader of a branch and encouraging the lower lateral to continue. Of course, the very act of pruning works against the training process, as it lightens the branch and prevents its weight from holding it down. This is another great contradiction of pruning-attempts to reproduce natural forms are constantly at odds with nature itself.
Branch training is taken to its limit in styles such as monkaburi (mon, meaning gate and kaburi, from the verb kaburu, meaning to wear or put on) when one branch from a tree (usually a pine or Podocarpus macrophyllus) is trained over the gateway or driveway of a home. It is a standard motif of domestic gardens and is a common sight in traditional residential areas.
A similar technique is also seen in temple gardens, when a lower branch is trained out along a path, supported on posts as it gets longer and longer. Elsewhere, branches are trained to hang over lanterns, or extend out over water. One of my favorites is a red pine branch that is trained around the borders of a private garden in Kyoto. It makes a right angle bend as it turns the corner of the wall and continues on its way. Sometimes it seems that branches are extended on a whim, with single branches making a beeline for a particular point, or at other times meandering casually across an open area. What is interesting about these-apart from the initially bizarre sight of a horizontally growing tree-is the work-in-progress branches one comes across. Even in temple gardens, work on these is never completed, and it is quite common to find a 12 in. (30 cm) flush of vertical growth at the end of one of these horizontal branches that has been allowed to grow away, before being tied down that winter to elongate the branch.
Branch training need not be reserved solely for authentic niwaki work-it can also be used to add character to various other projects, for example blocking or creating views. It is also a great way to add spread to mushroom-shaped standards and parasol shapes, speeding up the gradual process of sideways expansion. As already pointed out, the techniques and results of branch training are similar to that of fruit training, and are well within the grasp of most gardeners.
