From my perspective, sunlight is my primary source of energy, the very fuel that powers my entire existence, including the complex process of creating flowers. If I am not flowering, the most likely reason is that I am not receiving enough of this vital resource. While I can survive in partial shade, I truly thrive and produce my best floral display with a minimum of six to eight hours of direct, unfiltered sunlight daily. In low light conditions, my stems may become leggy as I stretch desperately towards the light, and my energy reserves are directed solely towards survival rather than the luxurious expenditure of reproduction through blooming. Ensure my placement allows me to bask in the sun's full glory for most of the day.
Your desire to nourish me is appreciated, but the type of food you provide is critical. If you feed me a fertilizer too high in nitrogen, you are essentially instructing me to focus on vegetative growth—to produce an abundance of lush, green leaves and stems. Nitrogen promotes foliage at the expense of flowers. What I truly need to initiate and sustain blooming is a fertilizer higher in phosphorus (the middle number in the N-P-K ratio). Phosphorus directly supports the development of strong roots, seeds, and, most importantly, flowers. An excess of nitrogen keeps me in a perpetual state of leaf production, forgetting my purpose to bloom.
This may seem counterintuitive, but a little bit of stress can be a powerful motivator for me to flower. If my roots are sitting in rich, heavily amended soil that is constantly moist and fertile, I have no urgent need to reproduce. I am comfortable and content to simply grow. However, if my conditions are a bit leaner—well-draining soil that dries out somewhat between waterings—I receive a signal that resources might not always be abundant. This environmental cue triggers my innate survival instinct: to produce flowers and set seed to ensure my genetic legacy continues before potential hardship arrives. Do not let me sit in wet, soggy soil, but a slightly drier, less fertile environment can encourage prolific blooming.
My flowering strategy is often to bloom, set seed, and then conclude my reproductive cycle. If you allow my spent blooms to remain on the stem, my biological programming tells me that I have successfully produced seeds and my job is done. This is why deadheading—the removal of faded flowers—is so crucial. By cutting off the dying blooms before they form seeds, you trick me into believing my mission is not yet accomplished. I will redirect my energy into producing more flowers in an attempt to successfully reproduce. For many of my varieties, consistent deadheading throughout the growing season prevents me from going to seed and promotes a continuous, vibrant display of color right up until the frost.
It is important to understand my natural lifespan. While some of my kind are perennial, living for several years, our vigor and flowering potential inevitably decline with age. An older plant may simply be past its prime, producing fewer flowers as its energy wanes. Furthermore, if I am a perennial type growing in a crowded clump, my roots may have become so dense that they are competing fiercely for nutrients and water, leaving little energy for flowering. Dividing me every two to three years rejuvenates my growth, gives my roots new space to expand, and restores my ability to flower profusely.
