Gardening: Last words on ‘How to close a bed’…
Last week’s column addressed the procedure for closing your garden beds at the end of the season, which is almost here — we’re a full week into fall. To repeat the basic principle that should inform your choices: a plant, for its maximum health, should complete its growth cycle in a given season. Just as the leaves of the spring daffodils have to wither in order for them to bloom again, so every perennial must go from start to finish; the plant must go full cycle if it is to bloom again. Two years ago, my Montauk daisies were struck with a terrible fungus in mid-August — all the leaves fell off and they never bloomed. I left the roots intact, hoping against hope, but they were toast, and never seen again.
But waiting for “crisp” weather to set in can be a really tiresome affair, especially when the fall is mild. Who wants to be gardening over Thanksgiving weekend? So the issue of how “crisp” is “crisp” sort of obsessed me for many years. How about if the plants are just brown, I wondered. Tan would be even better. Yellowing? When can I cut this @#$%^&* plant down to the ground and be done with it for the year! By October, my love of the earth and all things growing has gone up in the smoke of burning leaves. I’m done. I want out. But I was worried. Remember when Richard Nixon lost to Jack Kennedy because he “peaked too soon”? How awful it would be to lose a whole flower bed because one “peaked too soon.”
Sometime in the early 90s, I turned to the horticulturist at White Flower Farm, one of my favorite haunts, and posed the question, “How ‘crispy’ is ‘crisp’ in more proper garden language.” Her reply was the leaves had to be “brown.” I argued, as politely as possible, for tan. She replied, “brown.” Might yellowing work? “Brown.” Drat.
Several days later, while I was waiting (and chafing) for “brown,” my daughter called, quite upset. The yard crew that mowed her lawn and followed garden instructions when asked to do so, had, without any instructions, in her absence, closed her beds. All the plants, barely yellowing, had been cut to the ground and neatly mulched. In the defense of said crew, the mulch, neatly stacked, had been waiting in the driveway. But no one had mentioned using it. What did it mean, she asked me — was this garden Armageddon?
I had to confess I had no idea; I had always wondered about just that question. I didn’t mention the White Flower Farm lady, since the deed was done and time would tell — there was no need for “brown” to be added to the mix. But I did point out that we now had the perfect situation for a carefully designed scientific study. I would be religious about “crisp” or “brown” and in the spring we would know.
As the time approached for little green things to come peeking up out of the ground, we waited, at times patiently and at times impatiently. In short, both our gardens opened and bloomed quite normally — it had made not a single iota of difference. Liberation! Forget “brown!” Hallelujah.
So now I sort of go by feel. If a plant is finished blooming in mid-July, I take it down even if it’s just yellowing. If it’s a late bloomer — and I have asters, solidago and Montauk daisies — I give them some extra leeway. It seems fairly clear to me that as long as you’re not actually reckless, and you keep the general principles in mind, you can pretty much make your own rules. Only rocket science is rocket science.
