Sometimes I feel a need to gabble on about the garden, a quiet, peaceful place where I spend most of my summer days. Lately I can be found crawling about on the lawn, digging for treasure. But not the usual kind. I hunt for collapsed clover flowers lost in a sea of clover. When the dead head of the blossom is located, I’ll gently follow it down to the root and pull. And pull. The rest of it slowly emerges from its lair, just a hair under the soil. If I do it right, a foot or more of clover root is exposed. I love it when this happens! Reaching the root’s base I’ll extract it using careful circular motions. (If I hurry, the darn thing snaps; then any tiny bit left underground will simply regrow another long, shallow-rooted clover.)
Extraction is truly a delicate art.
This year there is so much clover devouring the front lawn it can hardly breathe. I won’t resort to spray, as the worms would be miserable. So, when my other garden chores are done, it’s ‘crawl time.’ Actually, this task, or grass roots rescue, as I prefer to call it, done in the cool of morning, can be really satisfying. Yes, there are lots of bald spots where this invader’s kin used to squat, but grass soon takes over when cleared areas are copiously watered for a few days.
Another lawn job involves pulling out crab grass. Bright green, easily seen crab babies are rather feebly anchored, and so more easily pulled out.
I can fill two big crab buckets in a morning. Finished, I’ll add a handful or two of good soil and sprinkle McGough’s best grass seed mix on the bald spot, water vigorously, and the problem is solved- for a while. (Waiting to remove this noxious weed makes the job tougher, because the wretched crab is busy 24/7, burrowing straight down.)
One vital thing to remember: Cut Grass Long- 3.5 to 4 inches, at least. Weeds are choked out, the grass grows thicker and loses that tell-tale yellow, a sign of sun-scorch. Short grass is an engraved invitation for weeds to move in.
Mowing slightly more often shouldn’t be a big deal.
Finally, I water often, especially lawn growing under trees, which absorb most of the moisture...
But, another task happens first. I deadhead every single lovely flower in the garden, tiny or huge, every single morning, a two to three hour job. In August, deadheading is much easier, lasting only about an hour. (For example, the prolific evening primrose, which took about thirty minutes to clean every day for most of July, is finished for the season.)
Day lilies, so named because they enjoy only one day of life, deserve to bloom free of their dead, limp brethren. I like this job, as the results are quite satisfying. It’s easy to snap off each exhausted one, so that the newborn flower a half-inch away is ‘Queen for the day.’ When all the buds have changed to flowers and are done, I snap off their long stems close to the ground.
I do this for hosta flowers, too. Hostas bloom for a meager few days, and leave tons of dead bits. The remaining stem-sticks are so ugly! I don’t allow mine to flower, as cleanup is such a pain, but would certainly do it cheerfully if what they produced would last more than a blink.
The reward for tidying up ‘plant poop’ is huge.
-Perennial geraniums (cranesbill) remain lovely for weeks longer.
-A second flush of Shasta daisies and asters will often appear because I searched the stem supporting the old flower for a tiny bud half way down, and THEN cut, just above it. A couple of weeks later, ping! A fresh, much shorter-stemmed white flower opens.
-Thick, healthy, huge annual geraniums stay that way because I snap off the old stem and withered flower right down at the stem’s base. New buds hanging around the area wait for that signal. Then, Bang! They open into more loveliness. Over and over!
-New roses form (on remondant roses) if I hunt for 5 leaves, not three, and cut just above that.
-Fresh, fat marigolds appear if I snap off old ones.
-Johnny-jump-ups continue to ‘jump up’ because I eliminated the old flowers- and their stems. This job is tedious because they are so small.
My two burgundy banana trees, relieved of their enormous tattered bottom leaves, will promptly grow fresh new ones that unfurl in afternoon sun. Both trees have shot up from one foot to seven feet in just two months. And they aren’t done yet! Soon, if I keep them hydrated, they’ll rise as high as nine feet, their elephant-sized fat purple leaves glistening in sunlight, as though waxed. Alas, banana trees die at first frost. (They are far too big to dig up and bring into the house to overwinter. But they make an impact out here!)
My ten-foot high Hibiscus bushes display countless lovely flowers- that live for just a day. Old blossoms drop off constantly during their grand show, necessitating a crawl deep underneath the spreading branches to collect large fat, withered ones that seem to fall like snow. If I don’t patrol three or four times daily the ground- and grass- underneath will be thickly littered with dead blossoms. That annoyance is offset by what’s above: glorious five-inch white flowers with deep purple throats that attract bees, who become so coated in pollen that they stagger and wobble when they try to lift off. Today one sat on my shoulder, loaded to the hilt, resting. I bet it had made a dozen trips. Bees never complain.
.
My bright red dinner plate hibiscus flowers are half done. This bush’s blooms are huge and prolific. But one-day-old blossoms turn a blackish-purple that looks truly awful next to newly minted flowers. Daily cleanup here is vital!
My tall Buddleia, or butterfly bush, is growing happily in the alley garden, but when those lovely bottlebrush flowers turn brown they want cutting away. Fresh new blooms fill in soon after. Butterflies swarm that bush.
Plants I’ve mentioned panic when pruned; they’ll immediately grow another flower- which is exactly what I want for July and August. But, I stop deadheading everything perennial on September 1, to encourage settling into dormancy. They need about a month to think about it.
A visitor asked me the other day when would be appropriate to trim back the lavender and spirea.
Lavender should be trimmed hard back, to perhaps just 4 inches, after the first or second HARD frost, when the ground is frozen to 2 inches below the soil line. The sleeping lavender won’t have a clue you’ve done this if their bottoms are frozen. In spring they’ll grow back vigorously.
If I cut it back to just above the first few tiny white bud nubs it will likely live a full life- about 6-7 years. If I cut too high- say, half way up- it will eventually get grumpy, thick-waisted and woody, and die sooner.
General rule; cut certain larger perennials, like Goats Beard, back almost to the ground after couple of hard frosts.
Leave others, like clematis, miscanthus grasses and hydrangea, until early spring.
Remove every single annual in late autumn, or when they give up. It’s really tough to pull them out in early spring. Not all of these dead plants come out easily, so I must dig the rest up with my trowel. What a tiresome task that can be.
So I never wait.
Autumn has given the first hint that things are about to change. Today I found lots of beautifully colored maple leaves on the sidewalk. September’s just around the corner!
Bryn watches everything as she sits close to me to nibble long clover roots thoughtfully. But she’s learned not to ‘help.’ I’d be engrossed, then, trying to change position, I’d glance back at her and find multiple little holes dug, and limp clovers dangling from her mouth. My reaction to her ‘assistance’ made it clear she was only to watch, and wonder why I would lavish such care on those long green, grubby lines.
She’s pleased, though, that I carefully collect her pooh into little bags on our walks. It’s obvious I treasure everything about her. How nice, she muses, to be considered so important.
Still, her human does value some peculiar things...