As a hollyhock, I am a biennial or short-lived perennial plant. My life's goal is to flower, set seed, and ensure the next generation. To do this, I must survive the winter. From my perspective, the cold is not just a season; it is a necessary period of dormancy and consolidation. Here is how I experience and require preparation for the cold months.
As autumn's light diminishes and temperatures drop, I receive a clear signal: it is time to shift my energy. I cease all efforts directed towards new leafy growth and flowering. Instead, I begin the vital process of pulling precious energy—stored sugars and carbohydrates—down from my leaves and stalks into my crown and root system. This central core, located at the soil surface, is my survival center. It is from here that I will regenerate in the spring. This process is why you see my above-ground parts beginning to brown and die back; it is not a failure, but a strategic retreat to protect my most vital assets.
My crown is vulnerable. A hard freeze without insulation can be fatal, causing my cells to rupture. A deep layer of mulch applied around my base after the ground has frozen is my greatest defense. This blanket, made of shredded leaves, straw, or bark, does not just keep me warm. It performs several critical functions: it stabilizes the soil temperature, preventing the damaging cycle of freeze-thaw-freeze that can heave my roots from the ground; it conserves moisture in the often-dry winter soil; and as it slowly decomposes, it will provide nutrients for me in the spring. Please do not bury my crown completely, as this can encourage rot. A layer of 4-6 inches is my ideal comfort zone.
I am not entirely dormant. I continue a very slow, metabolic process throughout the winter, and for this, I require water. Desiccation from cold, dry winds is a significant threat. My roots cannot take up moisture from frozen ground, and I can essentially die of thirst. A deep, thorough watering for me in the late autumn, just before the ground is expected to freeze solid, is crucial. This provides me with a critical reservoir of moisture to sustain my roots and crown through the long, dry winter months. Well-hydrated tissues are also more resistant to freeze damage.
You may be tempted to cut all my brown stalks down to the ground for a tidy garden. From my perspective, please reconsider. My dead foliage and spent flower stalks create a micro-habitat. They trap insulating snow, my natural winter protector, around my crown. They also provide crucial overwintering sites for beneficial insects, including the pupae of pollinators that will help me reproduce next year. Furthermore, leaving this structure helps to physically break the wind, reducing its drying effect. The best practice is to leave my stalks standing until spring, then trim them back to make way for my new growth.
