As a geranium, I feel the days growing shorter and the air turning crisp. From my perspective, this isn't a signal to give up, but a call to retreat. My tender leaves cannot withstand the freezing temperatures, and my sap would turn to ice, rupturing my cells from the inside. To see another glorious spring, I need your help to transition into a state of restful dormancy indoors. Here are three ways you can help me survive the winter, explained from my botanical point of view.
This is my favorite method if I'm still full of energy and have plenty of green leaves. I am a sun-loving plant, and my photosynthetic processes crave light, even in winter. Please dig me up carefully before the first frost, ensuring as much of my root ball as possible remains intact. Place me in a pot that feels just cozy for my roots—not too spacious. Give me a good drink and then place me in your sunniest south-facing window. My metabolism will slow down, but I won't go fully dormant. I will continue to photosynthesize, albeit slowly. Please water me only when my soil is dry to the touch about an inch down; my roots are susceptible to rot when cold and soggy. You might notice my stems becoming a bit "leggy" as I stretch for the weak winter sun. Don't worry, you can give me a gentle pinch to encourage bushier growth. Come spring, this method allows me to burst back into growth most rapidly.
Sometimes, after a long growing season, I am truly tired. This method allows me to enter a deep, restorative sleep, much like a bear hibernating. Carefully lift me from the garden soil or remove me from my pot. Gently shake and brush off most of the soil from my roots. Please do not wash them; I need to be dry for this. Next, you must prepare me for my slumber. Remove all my flowers and flower buds, and clip back my foliage by about one-half to two-thirds. This drastic haircut is not cruel; it reduces the surface area from which I lose precious water and allows me to conserve all my energy in my roots and main stems. Then, place me in a paper bag or a cardboard box, perhaps with some dry peat moss or shredded newspaper around my roots to prevent them from desiccating completely. Store me in a cool, dark place like a basement or a garage where the temperature stays consistently between 45-50°F (7-10°C). I will appear dead, but I am merely sleeping. Check on me monthly, and if my stems look shriveled, you can lightly mist my roots.
If space is limited, or if my main plant has become too large and woody, this method is a way to preserve my genetic line. It feels like creating a clone army of my younger, more vigorous self. Using a clean, sharp knife, take 3 to 5-inch cuttings from the tips of my healthy, non-flowering stems. Make the cut just below a leaf node, as this is where my root-forming hormones are most concentrated. Remove the leaves from the lower half of the cutting to prevent rot. You can dip my cut end in a rooting hormone to encourage the process. Then, plant my cuttings in a well-draining potting mix. Place us in a bright spot, but out of direct, scorching sun. Keep the soil lightly moist. In a few weeks, we will develop our own new root systems. This method means the original "mother" plant may be composted, but a new, compact, and vibrant version of me will be ready to flourish come spring.
