There is nothing like a few warm days in March and getting out into the garden after months of cold weather. I have always liked to have a handful of chores that give me something to do in the garden in late winter and early spring, particularly on mild sunny days. The first few of these days are perfect for pruning apples and cherries, as well as other woody plants so that their cuts are less susceptible to the diseases that may come on as the weather warms. It also allows one to burn any diseased pruning during the burn season, which ends in April.
I have also come to love cutting back the garden at this point as well. Though many gardeners cut their gardens back late in the fall, I enjoy the frost-covered seedheads and the structure of branches and stems backlit in the winter sun on a snowy day. Over the years, gardeners have come to make the argument that allowing fallen leaves to remain on the ground over the winter and leaving their stems in place helps plants make it through the season, providing a little protection from extreme cold and the variation in winter temperatures that our winters have increasingly shown. And lo and behold, I have found that many marginally hardy plants in my garden seem to have greater odds of surviving by having a little protection, so I felt vindicated by my fall slothfulness. (I would rather plant perennials in the fall then cut them down as I find that fall can be an ideal planting time – and plants are often on sale.)
But, alas, just when I was getting to feel a little righteous about getting out early, conventional wisdom shifts and the standard now is to cut back later and later in the spring season if at all, as the stems of plants and the leaves at their base often house overwintering beneficial insects, particularly in native plants such as Joe Pye weed and smooth asters. Their decaying foliage and stems provide nesting sites for native bees and a variety of other insects, just as the decomposing leaf matter provides habitat for other overwintering creatures. I found this news to be disheartening, as it took away from of my favorite early season excuses to not finish the inside chores I still had to take care of. Who would not prefer to be outside cutting brush versus painting the stair hall?
While I use a lot of natives in my garden, moments like this make me relieved that I am not such a purist, because they leave me with a few tasks that allow me to procrastinate on a few indoor tasks while giving me some time in the sun. Perhaps the plants that I am most grateful for in this moment are hellebores. Because they are not native, I feel comfortable cutting back their decaying leaves at this time. And, as they are early blooming, with flowerheads just pushing up their heads from a resting position now, just as the snowdrops are coming into their own, it is a lot easier to cut away their old foliage without having to worry about taking out any of this season’s flowers. The same is true of other early non-natives such as epimedium. Both have somewhat evergreen leaves that protect their crowns over the winter, but that look pretty ratty by winter’s end and are best removed.
It is also not a bad moment to cut back the tops of grasses or even some taller perennials, native and non-native, leaving behind the foliage and cut stems at the base to host insects while removing the tops before new growth emerges making the task impossible.
As for the perennials that I am told to hold off on cutting back, hopefully, I can attend to them at another moment early in the season when the hellebores and epimedium are in full bloom and I can take in their beauty as I care for their native companions. And the image of these flowers can bring me a smile as I head upstairs at days end through my newly painted stair hall.
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A gardener grows through observation, experimentation, and learning from the failures, triumphs, and hard work of oneself and others. In this sense, all gardeners are self-taught, while at the same time intrinsically connected to a tradition and a community that finds satisfaction through working the soil and sharing their experiences with one another. This column explores those relationships and how we learn about the world around us from plants and our fellow gardeners.
