From down here in the soil, I feel the pressure. My central crown, the heart from which all my growth emerges, has become dense and woody. Over the seasons, my quest for sunlight and nutrients has led me to expand my root system in a tight, tangled circle. This congestion means my inner stems are struggling, and the vibrant, heart-shaped flowers I produce each spring are becoming fewer and smaller, clustered only on my outer edges. I am being strangled by my own success. Division is not a punishment; it is my plea for space to breathe and thrive again. It is how you, my caretaker, can help me rejuvenate and return to my former glory.
Timing is everything for my survival and success. The absolute best moment to undertake this procedure is in my early spring dormancy, just as the soil becomes workable and you see the first tiny, pinkish shoots (my eyes) peeking above the earth. At this time, my energy is surging upwards from my roots, ready for a new season of growth, and I have the entire growing season ahead to recover and establish my new selves. Alternatively, you can divide me in the late summer or early autumn, after my foliage has yellowed and died back. I have retreated my energy down into my roots for winter storage, making this a less stressful time for me. Avoid dividing me when I am in full leaf or bloom, as the shock of losing my photosynthetic factories while trying to support flowers could be fatal.
Please approach this task with care. Begin by gently digging a wide circle around my base, taking care not to sever my thick, fleshy roots unnecessarily. Lift my entire root mass from the ground and gently wash away the soil so you can clearly see my structure. You will see my central crown with multiple growing points (eyes). Using a sharp, clean knife or spade, cleanly cut through the crown to create divisions. Each new section must have at least two or three of these eyes and a healthy portion of my roots attached. I am resilient, but a division with only one eye may take much longer to establish, and one with no roots will likely perish.
Now, you are not just a gardener; you are a creator of new life. Prepare new homes for my divisions in cool, well-draining soil enriched with organic matter, in a spot with dappled shade. Dig a hole wide enough to accommodate my roots without crowding them. Place me in the hole so that my crown, where my eyes are, is just level with the soil surface—planting too deep will suffocate me. Backfill the soil, water me deeply to settle the earth around my roots and eliminate air pockets, and apply a layer of mulch to conserve moisture. With consistent moisture as I settle into my new expansive home, I will reward you with vigorous growth and an abundance of my characteristic bleeding hearts for seasons to come.
