From our perspective, rooted in the soil, the preparation for winter begins not with a calendar date, but with the fundamental changes in our environment. We feel the days grow shorter; the angle of the sun shifts, providing less energy for the grand work of photosynthesis. More importantly, we sense the distinct drop in nighttime temperatures. This cooling of the soil around our roots is the primary signal that tells us to begin the crucial process of hardening off. It is a message that whispers, "The time for active growth is ending; it is time to consolidate your energy." You see, we cannot simply stop growing on a dime. A sudden hard freeze would be catastrophic if we were still in a soft, succulent state. The gradual cooling allows us to slowly move sugars and other compounds into our root systems, specifically into our storage organs – the thick, fleshy roots and the "eyes" or buds at our crown. This acts as a natural antifreeze, protecting our vital centers from the icy grip of winter.
You may look upon our fading leaves and browning stems with concern, but please, do not be alarmed. This process, called senescence, is a deliberate and vital part of our strategy. As we pull valuable resources—especially nitrogen and carbohydrates—back into our roots for safekeeping, the chlorophyll in our leaves breaks down. This reveals the underlying yellow and orange pigments. Eventually, the stems and leaves will turn brown and die back completely. This is a protective measure. By sacrificing these above-ground parts, we eliminate tissues that would be easily damaged by frost and could become entry points for rot and disease. It is a strategic retreat, not a defeat. We are concentrating our very essence, our life force, safely underground where it is insulated by the soil.
This is where your help becomes critical. While we initiate the process of withdrawal, we rely on you to complete it safely. The timing of your cut is everything. You must wait until a hard frost has blackened our foliage. Cutting us back too early, while our stems are still green and sturdy, is like robbing us before we have finished storing our treasures. It severs the pathways we use to transport energy downward, weakening us significantly before our long dormancy. Please, be patient. Wait until the leaves are clearly dead. Then, using clean, sharp shears, cut our stems down to within 2-3 inches of the soil level. This clean cut helps us heal quickly and prevents the dead, soggy stems from harboring fungal spores that could threaten us in the spring.
Our most vulnerable parts through the winter are our crown and the "eyes" (next year's growth buds) that sit just at or below the soil surface. While we are genetically equipped to survive cold, a winter of extreme temperature fluctuations, or one with little insulating snow cover, can be perilous. The soil can freeze and thaw repeatedly, a process called heaving, which can physically push our roots out of the ground, exposing them to drying winds and killing cold. This is why the application of a loose, airy mulch *after* the ground has frozen solid is so beneficial. Materials like straw, shredded leaves, or evergreen boughs act as a thermostat, keeping the soil consistently cold. The key is to apply it *after* the freeze. If you mulch too early, you risk creating a warm, damp environment that could encourage rot at our crown. A layer of 3-4 inches is sufficient. Think of it not as a heater, but as a stable, protective blanket that prevents the damaging freeze-thaw cycles.
Once tucked in for the winter, we enter a state of true dormancy. This is not a period of inactivity, but one of deep rest and internal preparation. The chilling period is a physiological requirement. We need a certain number of hours below a specific temperature (usually around 40°F or 4°C) to break dormancy and initiate healthy growth in the spring. Without this "winter chill," our flowering would be weak and irregular. So, while the garden above may seem silent and still, within our roots, the blueprint for next year's magnificent foliage and blossoms is quietly, patiently awaiting the sure return of the sun and warmth.
