As an African Daisy, I am a creature of the sun, born from the well-drained, sun-baked soils of South Africa. My very essence is warmth. When the air turns crisp and the days shorten, a deep, cellular dread begins to stir within my roots and stems. Winter, for me, is not a gentle dormancy but a fight for survival. To see me through to another blooming season, you must understand my needs from my perspective.
Before the first true frost even whispers on the wind, my fate is largely sealed. The care I receive in late summer and early autumn is crucial. Please, stop giving me rich, nitrogen-heavy food that encourages soft, succulent new growth. This tender flesh is the first to succumb to the cold. Instead, a final application of a low-nitrogen, high-potassium fertilizer helps harden my tissues, strengthening my cell walls and making me more resilient. Also, resist the urge to give me a drastic haircut. While deadheading spent flowers is welcome, my remaining foliage is my solar panel, capturing the last precious rays of weak sun to manufacture the sugars that act as my internal antifreeze. A light trim to remove any diseased or overly leggy stems is all I need.
This is the most critical decision you will make for me. My roots are the most vulnerable part of me; they cannot tolerate being frozen solid.
If I am growing in your garden soil, my chances are slim unless the winter is exceptionally mild. A heavy blanket of mulch—at least 4 to 6 inches of straw, shredded leaves, or bark—piled over my crown after the ground has frozen can sometimes insulate me enough. But this is a gamble. A sudden thaw and refreeze can be fatal. If you choose this path, ensure I am in the sunniest, most well-drained spot possible, as sitting in cold, wet soil will cause my roots to rot.
If I am in a container, my best hope is to be brought indoors. I do not wish to live in your warm, dry living room. That would confuse me and make me susceptible to pests. I need a cool, bright hibernation space. An unheated garage, a cool greenhouse, or a sheltered porch where temperatures stay consistently between 40-50°F (4-10°C) is ideal. Here, my metabolism will slow almost to a standstill, and I will rest.
In my winter quarters, my needs are minimal but specific. Light is still important; a bright window or supplemental lighting helps prevent me from becoming etiolated—stretched out and weak. Water is a delicate matter. You must drastically reduce your watering. The goal is to keep my roots from completely desiccating, but never to keep the soil moist. Water me sparingly, perhaps once every few weeks, just enough to prevent my stems from shriveling. My leaves may yellow and drop; this is a normal part of my energy conservation. Do not fertilize me at all during this time. I am sleeping, not feasting.
As the daylight hours lengthen and the threat of a hard frost passes, you can begin to wake me. Do not shock me by putting me directly into full sun. Acclimate me gradually over a week or two. Increase watering slowly as you see signs of new growth. Once I am actively growing again, you can give me a gentle pruning to shape me and a light application of balanced fertilizer. This signals to my entire being that the time of rest is over, and the season of brilliant, sun-seeking blooms has begun once more.
