You may have placed me in a spot that is too shady. As a photosynthetic organism, I require ample dappled sunlight to manufacture the sugars needed for flower bud formation. If I am buried deep under a dense tree canopy or against a north-facing wall, my systems detect that energy resources are too low to support the massive expenditure required for blooming. I will prioritize survival—leaf and root growth—over reproduction. Without sufficient light, I simply cannot produce the chemical signals or the energy reserves to create blossoms.
The fertilizer you applied might have been incorrect. A high-nitrogen blend will encourage me to produce an abundance of lush, green foliage at the expense of flowers. Nitrogen promotes vegetative growth. To initiate bloom buds, I require a higher ratio of phosphorus (the middle number in fertilizer ratios, like 5-10-5). An imbalance tips my internal scales away from blooming. Alternatively, you may have given me too much fertilizer, forcing rapid but weak growth that isn't hardy enough to support flowers, or perhaps you fed me too late in the season, after the buds had already been set.
Your well-intentioned pruning may have accidentally removed my flower buds. I form my buds for the next spring's show in the late summer and early fall of the previous year, just beneath the current year's blooms. These buds sit on the old wood. If you trimmed me back in late fall or early spring to shape me, you likely sheared off all the pre-formed buds. I cannot regenerate them in time for the current season. My growth cycle was interrupted, and the potential for flowers was literally cut away.
My environment was likely less than ideal. A late spring frost after my buds had begun to swell and open can cause them to abort and turn brown, effectively ending the display before it begins. Alternatively, I may have experienced significant drought stress during the critical bud-setting period in the previous summer. Without consistent moisture, my systems go into survival mode and I cannot commit resources to bud formation. Poor drainage, which leads to soggy roots and root rot, is equally stressful and disrupts my entire nutrient and water uptake system.
Finally, it is part of my natural rhythm to sometimes have a "rest" year. After a particularly spectacular and energetically costly bloom the previous spring, I may need a season to rebuild my strength and nutrient stores. You might notice that I still look perfectly healthy with strong green growth, but I have simply chosen to allocate my energy to my root system and foliage this year instead of flowers. This is a normal cyclical pattern for many of my kind, ensuring long-term health and vigor over annual performance.
