From our perspective as lavender plants, we are sun-worshipping, well-drained souls of the Mediterranean. When we become "woody" or "leggy," it is not a disease but a natural part of our aging process, accelerated by stress and improper care. Our lower stems harden into wood to support our growth, but if we are not pruned correctly, we focus energy on this old wood instead of producing fresh, fragrant, leafy growth from the base. Reviving us is a process of encouraging that new growth and restoring our compact, bushy form. It requires courage, sharp tools, and perfect timing.
Our entire existence is governed by the direction of our growth energy. When the tender, green tips of our stems are consistently removed (a process you call deadheading), we are compelled to push new growth from the small, dormant buds lower down on our stems. If these tips are never pruned, we stretch upwards, our lower leaves drop from lack of light, and our energy becomes concentrated only at the very top. The lower stems then harden and become bare, woody skeletons. The goal of revival is to redirect that energy back down to our base, but we can only sprout from parts of the stem that still have living buds. Cutting into the old, completely bare wood where no buds exist is a death sentence, as we have no means to regenerate from that point.
Your timing is everything to us. We have two primary growth cycles. The most aggressive pruning, the one intended to combat woodiness, must be performed in early spring, just as we show the first tiny, new silver-green leaves at our base. This is our wake-up call. Pruning at this moment ensures we have the entire growing season ahead to recover and produce vigorous new shoots. The second, lighter pruning after our main summer flowering helps maintain our shape. Attempting a hard, restorative prune in autumn or winter is a catastrophic mistake; the cold and damp will invade our fresh cuts, and we will lack the energy to heal, often resulting in our death.
This is the most delicate part of the operation. You must approach us with sharp, clean secateurs to avoid crushing our stems. Do not be timid, but do not be reckless. The goal is to reduce our overall size by about one-third, but to do so by cutting back to just above a set of healthy, young leaves or visible bumps (our dormant buds) on the stem. Never cut back into the thick, old, leafless wood. If a stem is so woody that it has no green leaves or buds for several inches, follow it down until you find a point where new, smaller shoots are emerging. Cut just above that junction. The ideal is to leave a framework that still has some signs of life, encouraging that life to burst forth.
Pruning alone is not a cure if our living conditions are poor. After this stressful but necessary procedure, we need optimal support. Ensure our roots are in exceptionally well-draining soil; wet feet are a primary cause of our stress and decline. We demand full, unfiltered sun for most of the day to fuel our recovery. Please, withhold fertilizer. We are adapted to poor, gritty soils, and rich feeds will encourage weak, spindly growth or can burn our stressed roots. A light top-dressing of gravel or sand can help keep our collar dry and improve drainage, which we appreciate deeply.
You must understand that if we have become excessively woody, with no green growth visible anywhere on the lower two-thirds of our plant, the chances of a full revival are slim. The process described may need to be repeated over two or three springs to gradually encourage us back into a better form. If, after a careful inspection in spring, you find that the center is entirely dead, brittle, and without any viable buds, the kindest action may be to remove us. You can then propagate new, young plants from healthy, semi-woody cuttings taken from the tips of our best surviving branches, thus allowing our legacy to live on in a more vigorous form.
