Putting a garden to bed — that sounds so lovely, doesn’t it? It’s like fluffing up the pillows, washing the sheets, putting a blanket on, and climbing into somewhere cozy and warm. We can sit up and read a book or play games on our phones. So putting a garden to bed is precisely like this. Oh, if only… 

This week has had beautifully cool nights, a full-ish moon, clear skies, and cool mornings. The mist rises up after dusk as the air cools and moisture near the ground condenses into tiny droplets. There it remains and thickens until the next day’s sun. It has been a perfect week for starting to put gardens to bed. What exactly does that mean? It means, actually, a ton of work. 

Cutting back

The first thing you probably need to do is get out your shears, make sure they are sharp, and then cut everything down. That should take you a month. Just kidding. Two and a half weeks max. And then you have to put all that plant material somewhere, so you’d better find your compost pile. Once you’ve located it (that usually takes me a while — it’s out there somewhere!), I then try to remember the rules: browns, greens, moisture, turn, turn, turn — no, that’s a song! 

Don’t put anything in the compost that appears to have a fungal issue or any sort of a disease. I think that’s a rule. The only problem is all my plants look like they have some disease or fungal infection. So what exactly do I do then? Bring them to the transfer station. We have lovely people at our transfer station. It’s always good to see them, and the baked goods are terrific. So, if I’m motivated, I take a load or three there. 

Remember to wear your gloves because, inevitably, somewhere in your garden you’ll either have stinging nettle or something with sharp thorns — in my case, both. The stinging nettle has great staying power. I pulled some up two weeks ago and picked it up today dead and crinkling and it stung me again. And I’ve been bleeding all day from roses and thistles and other sharp stuff. 

I have, littered about, stalks, leaves, and dead and dying parts of plants. Nothing particularly glamorous about it. I also realize I have left my shovels and all of my tools everywhere. I found a trowel half-buried in a bed. I find the odd glove, too: mainly my left-handed ones.

Weeding

In addition to the dead and dying, I have an exceptionally alive and thriving crop of weeds: bindweed, mugwort, and grass. I have been struggling with bindweed all year in this garden, which has it particularly badly, so I fill those garbage cans about twice daily with bindweed, trying to find my soil.

Turns out the bits of root I leave behind can grow right back. Just what I was hoping for. 

This autumn, I am removing most of the plants that I love from this garden. This winter and next spring, we will do a dramatic reimagining of it. I wonder what I’m going to do? As you can see, I have left the plants still in bloom for the pollinators to feed on.

To cut back or not?

Fall cleanup of my hosta gardens is haphazard. I have to decide whether to leave the greenery to die on its own and provide winter cover for insects or whether I cut it all down now. Next spring, I’ll be donating hosta and peonies — 40 of them — to the Rutland County Master Gardener plant sale, which happens on the first Saturday of every June. If I cut the plants to the ground, they’ll be easier to dig up come spring. Decisions, decisions.

Planting

Autumn is often a great time to plant perennials, I think. Less watering and weeding. I still have plants that need to go in the ground – many, many plants. I dig them up in a fit of enthusiastic energy, then they sit in black plastic pots until I remember to water them and finally find a new home for them. Usually I don’t. So they go somewhere to be overwintered. No, not in Florida, but in a clay ditch somewhere around here. Depressingly few survive. I think my modus operandi may need tweaking. That, and I need to choose to grow plants that love it here: June daisies and goldenrod. 

My gardens have given me so much joy this year — yes, they have, despite my constant complaining. When I walk through my gardens now (instead of running away from them), all I see is work, overgrown things, weeds that need to come out, and things that need to be put back in the ground.

I’ve decided to put together a playlist of energizing music, which I intend to listen to outdoors, in hopes of getting to some or all of the work by the end of October. Whether I actually will is a question I can’t answer at the moment. Therefore, there will have to be a part two! Stay tuned.

^{Photos by author.}