From my perspective as a hollyhock, my entire biological purpose is to reproduce, to ensure the continuation of my genetic line. I channel a tremendous amount of my energy into producing vibrant, towering flowers. These are not merely for your admiration; they are my billboards to attract pollinators. Once a flower is successfully pollinated, its job is complete, and my focus shifts entirely to the next phase: seed production. The petals wither and fall away as the ovary at the flower's base begins to swell and develop into a seed pod, called a schizocarp. This process of creating seeds is incredibly energy-intensive. As long as seeds are developing, the majority of my resources are diverted to this task.
When you approach me with shears and remove the spent blooms—a process you call deadheading—you are fundamentally interrupting my natural reproductive cycle. By cutting off the flower stem just below the wilted bloom and, crucially, above the first set of healthy leaves, you are removing the potential site of seed pod formation. From my point of view, this is a catastrophic failure to reproduce. My strategy has been thwarted. However, I am a resilient and determined organism. I am genetically programmed to try again.
Faced with this setback, I must enact my secondary strategy. The energy that was destined for seed maturation in that specific pod is now suddenly available. With no seeds to nurture, and with the hormonal signal that was suppressing further flower production (auxin produced by the developing seeds) now gone, I can redirect my resources. This surplus energy, drawn from my roots and stored in my stem and leaves, is funneled into the production of new flowering side shoots, often from leaf nodes further down the main stalk. I do not simply give up; I try again to achieve my goal of setting seed, this time by producing a new flush of blooms for pollinators to find.
For this process to work effectively from my perspective, your technique matters. A ragged tear can invite pathogens into my system. A clean, sharp cut heals quickly, allowing me to seal the wound and focus my energy on regeneration, not defense. It is also vital that you leave the main stalk and healthy foliage intact. These are my solar panels and my energy storage units. Without them, I cannot photosynthesize effectively to fuel the new growth you desire. By deadheading correctly, you send me a clear, non-verbal signal: "The attempt failed. Try again elsewhere." And I will oblige.
As the days grow shorter and the light changes, my internal programming begins to shift. I sense the approaching end of the growing season. If you cease deadheading me in late summer or early autumn, I will interpret this as permission to finally complete my primary mission. The last flowers of the season will be allowed to form those prized seed pods, ensuring I leave behind a legacy for the next year. This satisfies my core imperative and allows you to collect seeds, creating a beautiful, self-sustaining cycle in your garden.
