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Archive for the dividing tag

Dividing ornamental grasses

February 23, 2016   •   Leave a Comment

We have 3 zebra grasses and all are growing nicely from the outside of the circle that each forms. The center of each plant is brown and has no new growth. We have heard that you are supposed to burn the grass but that sounds a little drastic. Is there any way we can get rid of the brown centers and yet preserve the healthy parts of the plants? C.T., Farmington Hills

You might have confused “burning grasses” with the prescribed burn method used to rejuvenate a planted prairie situation. With ornamental grasses, such as Miscanthus, feather reed grasses (Calamagrostis x acutiflora), or switch grasses (Panicum), the appropriate method is to cut them down to the ground in late winter (late March here in Michigan). This allows the gradually longer daylight hours to reach the root crown and stimulate new growth.

Your zebra grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Strictus’) is considered a “warm season” grass, which means it needs the warmer temperatures of May to kick into gear. The feather reed grasses are “cool season” grasses and will show new shoots as early as mid-April. This is why it is very important to cut down your winter interest grasses by the end of March to take advantage of the increasing daylight.

Because yours are showing “melting out” in the center, this is a sure sign they need to be divided. This should be done shortly after cutting them back, before active growth begins, and as soon as the soil is workable. You will need strong shovels, spading forks and possibly a pickaxe and a handsaw. Dig out the entire root ball of each grass and lay it on its side on a tarp. You may be lucky and be able to break the root ball apart with a sharp shovel. However, it often takes two spading forks placed back to back into the root ball and two people prying back on them with plenty of determination to make a dent in separating out chunks of the root zone. If you don’t mind sacrificing a hand saw to dirt and plant roots, that works very well also, especially if you are the only one working on the job.

Once you have broken the root ball, it is not difficult to separate the viable roots from the dead center into transplantable pieces. You not only have more plant material for free but have also revitalized the grass as a whole. The transplanted sections will welcome having more space to grow.

 

Filed Under: Ask MG Tagged With: dividing, maintaining, Miscanthus, ornamental grasses, Panicum, zebra grass

Shared Gardens, Shared Lives

September 3, 2014   •   Leave a Comment

Garden space and tasks can be divided and shared in numerous ways

One couple, unable to compromise their divergent tastes, drew a line down the middle of their yard. On one side, she gardens with wild abandon. It’s quite the contrast to his beds, which are a study in formality.
One couple, unable to compromise their divergent tastes, drew a line down the middle of their yard. On one side, she gardens with wild abandon. It’s quite the contrast to his beds, which are a study in formality.

By Janet Macunovich / Photos by Steven Nikkila

Some people wear all hats in a garden: designer, supreme commander, sole worker, and undisputed owner of all praise of their property. It’s an exhilarating kind of gardening, if a bit lonely.

It may also be the exception. More people are gardening than ever before and households consist of ever more diverse collections of people, so gardens are now being shared by partners, teams and even opposing camps. Today, horticultural skill no longer guarantees gardening success. A gardener needs a green thumb plus diplomacy, humor and the art of negotiation.

Looking at relationships that grow within shared gardens and examining your own sharehold is a way to improve your own non-horticultural gardening skills.

Gardeners’ interests change, and their garden sharing agreements should, too. Young children may like open areas, older children may want seclusion. All of them like water.
Gardeners’ interests change, and their garden sharing agreements should, too. Young children may like open areas, older children may want seclusion. All of them like water.

There are traditional ways to share a garden. One gardener designs, while planting goes to the other(s). One grows ornamental plants, leaving vegetables to the other(s). One mows, the beds belong to the other(s). One is master of everything woody in a yard while dominion over “soft” plants—flowers and vegetables—goes to the other(s). Each gardener may have a distinct area, as when two gardeners agree that one gardens in front, the other in back. Or distinctions may be by pecking order as when one directs while the other does as told.

Children, given an area to plant, will often choose plants quite unlike what an adult would have predicted. The author thought her children would like “lady in a bath” – the old English name for bleeding heart…
Children, given an area to plant, will often choose plants quite unlike what an adult would have predicted. The author thought her children would like “lady in a bath” – the old English name for bleeding heart…

Division of duties might be mercurial—some gardeners modify their agreement for each plant and project. It can also be adversarial – I’ve seen gardeners make controversial changes while a partner is out of town, hide expensive purchases, even call in referees. The resulting garden might be uncomfortable for some, but not for those who like some spice, have a keen sense of humor or revel in a challenge.

There are also unique approaches to sharing. One couple employed the “distinct area” approach—he gardened in front, she in back—until he became bored with the front. Its public aspect was restrictive of personal expression. They began gardening the front as a team but in back, unable to compromise their divergent tastes, they drew a line down the middle of the yard. On one side, she gardens with wild abandon. Across the way, his beds are a study in formality. The view from the back door can be bizarre, until one learns to focus not in the middle but to left or right.

But Cory shunned it for bigger, bolder canna.
But Cory shunned it for bigger, bolder canna.

Another unusual sharing is “my year, your year.” The people I saw employing it were partners who had done standard sharing for many years and had reached a base agreement as to overall layout and annual budget. In odd-numbered years now she is head gardener, with sole authority to redesign, while he is “under gardener.” In even years, the roles reverse. These people are not overly competitive and secure in other aspects of their relationship, so the results are fun to see.

In gardens shared by children and adults, a common approach is “I made this for you,” in which the adult designs and plants a play area within the garden. Another standard is to give children distinct areas: “these two rows in the vegetable garden,” and authority with some strings attached: “you can plant anything you want so long as…” Less often, kids are encouraged but not required to garden and carve out places of their own over time.

What is your garden sharing arrangement? How do you and others involved feel about your roles? Is change or clarification needed?

One woman learned abruptly that she and her husband had divided yard work by type of tool involved. Everything that could be done in the yard that involved power tools was “his.” Everything that required small tools or fingers alone was “hers.”

Sometimes garden sharing is divided along the lines of tools – power tools to one person…
Sometimes garden sharing is divided along the lines of tools – power tools to one person…

Hand tools to another.
Hand tools to another.

One man redrew his sharing arrangement when his daughter bought a home and needed landscaping help. His wife—always the planner and director in their shared garden—was out of town so he tackled the landscape renovation on his own. He was surprised at how much fun it was. He and his wife now deal as equals in their garden – the wheels of that change having been well greased by the fine landscape he designed and executed at their child’s home.

Joint responsibility for pruning may be one of the rarest arrangements in shared gardening. I first realized this after a neighbor borrowed my pole pruner. His role had previously restricted him to the lawn and vegetable garden. Upon the loan, he discovered both joy of pruning plus the power of the right tool and cut with such glee that his wife said, on returning the pole pruner to me, “If you ever loan him this again I’ll divorce both of you.”

Children grow quickly. Their interest in a garden sharehold can change as often as their shoe size. When my children were very young, they shared as spectators in the garden. From backpacks on our backs, they saw what we saw and heard what we said but were not at first allowed to touch. Later they were assigned to certain areas and allowed to do as they pleased.

Sometimes the best way to share a garden is to give each gardener a distinct area and complete dominion.
Sometimes the best way to share a garden is to give each gardener a distinct area and complete dominion.

As they grew and their interests changed, we tried to change their shareholds to match. For a time, when our son found destruction to be a fascinating pursuit, we included him in anything that required the use of an ax or hammer. When both children developed a yen for privacy, their garden area moved from a central, open spot to a secluded corner. We didn’t make or assign that move but came home to a fait accompli, a corner having been usurped and redesigned, complete with water garden. We might have been angry except that we accepted the mercurial nature of our shared garden contract.

Now that our children are grown, their corner is one of our favorite places. It may represent the first time we realized that our gardening relationships are worth far more than our gardens, but it won’t be the last.

My husband, Steven, and I started out sharing our yard by plant category—lawn was his, everything else was mine. His share of the bargain decreased as my beds encroached on the lawn. With less mowing to do he paid more attention to what I was doing and developed so much interest that he went back to school and completed a degree in horticulture. This called for a new garden sharing arrangement!

Enjoy your garden. But treasure and protect your garden sharing relationships.
Enjoy your garden. But treasure and protect your garden sharing relationships.

By gradual degrees and mutual consent, I retained responsibility and authority in the beds while he increased his participation in a way that pleased me and satisfied his intellectual and proprietary interests. His role is now that of occasional helpmate, full-time sounding board for ideas, sympathetic shoulder for tearful disasters, and proud partner in celebrating successes.

He was in his role as helpmate when I came home the other day. Coming in the door, I said, “Hi Cory. Where’s your Dad?”

“Padre got home about half hour ago. He’s in the back yard, weeding the patio.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet!”

So I went out, sat down next to him and started pulling weeds from between the flagstones. We talked for a few minutes and then I thought to tell him, “Oh, you know that white turtlehead? That little piece that’s been struggling along for the past three years with just two stems? Well, I was out here this morning and it has three stems!”

As I said this, I walked over to where the turtlehead was planted, “It’s over here and this volunteer columbine is trying to crowd it so I… Steven, where’s the turtlehead? You didn’t pull the turtlehead?!”

Steven was not looking at me when I whirled around, but was already sifting through the pile of weeds he’d pulled.

Staring again at the turtleheadless place, I said, “LOOK at this, you didn’t even pull out ACTUAL weeds right next to it! And you left its roots in place! If it was a weed why did you just yank the top off? I really appreciate the weeding, dear, but come on now, did it look like any weed that you know?”

“Yes, it did look like a weed… I can’t remember right now which one, but it did. Here it is. No, wait, there should be one more piece…”

Holding the bits of plant in my hand, I reflected that my response was endangering a garden sharing arrangement worth far more than any plant. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. In fact, it might be very good. Will you help me pot up the pieces, like cuttings? They’ll probably root. And since the original roots are still in place to sprout again, we can end up with at least TWO plants. We’ll put them in two different places and double its chances of survival.”

Enjoy your garden. But treasure and protect your garden sharing relationships.

Janet Macunovich is a professional gardener and author of the books “Designing Your Gardens and Landscape” and “Caring for Perennials.” Read more from Janet on her website www.gardenatoz.com.

 

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: dividing, shared gardens, sharing

Janet’s Journal: Fall is a Great Time for Moving Plants

August 10, 2013   •   1 Comment

September is a great time to move most shrubs. Oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) blooms wonderfully in half shade in moist, well-drained soil. If grown in other locations it’s a disappointment.
September is a great time to move most shrubs. Oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) blooms wonderfully in half shade in moist, well-drained soil. If grown in other locations it’s a disappointment.

September, the season of conflict, is upon us.

It’s a time of great opportunity. The nights are cool and fall stretches long ahead. Moving plants, divisions and new plantings will take quickly and have plenty of time to root in before winter.

The soft, rich colored needles of dwarf balsam fir drive the author to rip out perfectly good perennials that overshadow this conifer.
The soft, rich colored needles of dwarf balsam fir drive the author to rip out perfectly good perennials that overshadow this conifer.

A season’s planning is done—in mental notes, journal entries, photographic records, and verbal promises, we’ve each made dozens of decisions regarding plants and gardens. That new plant is wonderful, but should be moved. Another has exhausted its grace period and is still lacking—it needs a quick trip to the compost pile. Long-time residents that have begun the downhill slide into decline need renewal or relocation.

There is no time like today to do these things.

Now it’s certain which plants are which and how we feel about each. In the spring we will have forgotten how overbearing the pink phloxes have become in that bed over near the crabapple. Even if we are able to distinguish the pinks from the whites six months from now, we may lack the resolve to oust them.

In late summer, with plant bodies at their fullest, it is clear which must be reduced and by how much to widen a path or allow neighboring plants a fair share of air space. In spring when emptiness is everywhere, the urge is to let the riot come, so long as the voids are filled and filled quickly.

Today, the sight and names of wonderful new plants are fresh in mind, and potted recruits are ready for us at garden centers, often at reduced prices. Planted now, given the fall to settle in and early spring to resume growth, they will be nearly one season larger than counterparts bought and planted next April or May.

Hand-in-hand with opportunity, though, comes mind-numbing, body-slowing reluctance. I’m parked in a chair, stupefied. My plea goes up to the gardening gods: Save me from late summer inertia! Grant me impetus, that I may take advantage of September’s gentle growing conditions.

When that divine nudge comes, I know to have my to-do list ready:

Sedum 'Vera Jameson' is pretty in bloom (above) and pretty in leaf (below), but it’s not aggressive. Left too long in one spot, it will be crowded by other plants or affected by depleted soil nutrients and begin to decline.
Sedum ‘Vera Jameson’ is pretty in bloom (above) and pretty in leaf (below), but it’s not aggressive. Left too long in one spot, it will be crowded by other plants or affected by depleted soil nutrients and begin to decline.

sedum-vera-jameson-foliage-sep-13Every year I take aim and clear one area that has fallen to thugs—aggressive plants that spread and crowd out others. Everyone has a few, and I may have more than my share. Although I’d like to eradicate them all at once, I’ve learned that thoroughness in removal is the only sure cure. Since thoroughness takes so much time, I tackle only one thug per season.

This year’s target is spotted bellflower (Campanula punctata). It’s an easy place to start—though an aggressive plant can make up for its bad nature with a pretty face, this one is as homely as it is pesty.

The space left bare of bellflower will be a site for annuals or vegetables next year while I keep my eyes peeled for any bellflower resurgence from overlooked roots. I’ll have all next season to plan perennial replacements, though I already have in mind a combination of big betony (Stachys macrantha), Sedum ‘Vera Jameson’ and Salvia azurea. I have some of each that need rescuing from worn-out ground.

Hydrangeas ‘Nikko Blue’ and ‘All Summer Beauty’ have got to go. Really, this time—no more second chances. For others blessed with sheltered microclimates these plants may be August delight, but here they are flowerless. Their branch tips are killed each winter, and though new ones grow, they lack the programming to generate flowers in that, their first season. Only at the end of a long season will more tips with blooming potential be produced—and winter cold will again nip that process in the bud.

Likewise, my ‘Arnold’s Dwarf’ forsythia belongs in the compost. Dwarf it is, but flowering it is not; its flower buds are too tender to survive any but the mildest winter.

On the subject of dwarf plants, dwarf fothergilla (Fothergilla gardenii) is definitely worth keeping, but it needs a new home in my garden. It leapt to the catalog-promised height of three feet in its first year. After almost three years, it’s clear that endearing growth spurt was not a bonus earned by my gardening skills—the shrub slowed at four feet but didn’t stop until five. Even if it could be pruned without ruining the shape, who has time to prune another shrub in spring right after it blooms? Better to move it to a spot where a five-foot presence is needed.

The fothergilla will take the place of a superfluous purple bush clover (Lespedeza thunbergii), a die-back shrub 5 to 6 feet tall and as wide. I planted two bush clovers, but now see that one plant provides plenty of impact. Of the two I planted, one is variety ‘Gibraltar’ and is definitely the prettier for holding its pinkish-purple pea flowers in denser clusters. I’ll keep ‘Gibraltar’ and a friend will get the other—a treasure even if second to ‘Gibraltar.’ This October where there were two five-foot fountains of pink bloom there will be one fountain and one mass of deep orange fothergilla foliage.

Dwarf fothergilla in fall and in bloom.
Dwarf fothergilla in fall and in bloom.

Ah, fall foliage. Have I really decided that the oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) will go this year? It never lives up to its potential for bloom or fall color, not in the dry, lean soil and scant shade of my garden. Having seen it in the shade of high-pruned trees in rich, moist, well-drained soil, where each leaf may be nearly 12 inches by 12 inches, I have begun to pity more than enjoy mine. Its foliage is pale and half-sized, the flower clusters and the leaves burnt on the edges in summer, the foliage a washed out brown in fall, far from the rich maroon it could be.

Yes, that hydrangea will go. For that will free up more than a square yard of half-shade space, a perfect relocation site for four great plants now languishing in unsuitable, unseen places: fringe cups, tovara, large-flowered comfrey and toadlily.

Fringe cups (Tellima grandiflora) has been the object of more queries than almost any other plant in the dry, shady garden I designed and help tend at the Detroit Zoo. It has basal foliage like a furry coral bell and tiny flowers, pink-edged, ranged along leafless, wiry stems. Even better than good looks, it has long-term dependability and low maintenance requirements in dry shade.

Tovara (Tovara virginiana or Persicaria virginiana ‘Painter’s Palette’) adds height and colorful leaf to the shade. If I don’t move mine soon from under the encroaching viburnums, it will be only a memory.

Large-flowered comfrey (Symphytum grandiflorum) came into my garden as a groundcover trial. Big leaves, yellow flowers in May on short stalks, a dense, weed-smothering growth habit, and tolerance for drought commended it to me for a spot under the influence of my neighbor’s thirsty elm. It performed well where it was planted, and I promptly began to ignore it. Then a few divisions moved to a client’s garden because they are coarse, low, able to handle shade and are not liked by slugs. In that new site, I came to appreciate it more as a specimen than a groundcover.

When I planted my first toadlily (Tricyrtis hirta), its placement far from the beaten track and behind taller plants was determined solely by available space. Since then I’ve chanced upon that plant only by accident, but I’ve been more impressed each time with its form and the enchanting purple flowers in October. It’s high time it moved to center stage from unseen wings.

Unseen. That describes my dwarf balsam fir (Abies balsamea ‘Nana’). I haven’t seen it since the globe thistle overwhelmed it. That globe thistle definitely has to go. Fine plant though it is, I have its divisions in more suitable places. Far better to let the fir grow.

Now I’m wondering, when did I last see my golden hops (Humulus lupulus ‘Nugget’)? It was on my wish list for at least five years before I found it last spring. You’d think I could remember where I planted it…

I’ll enjoy my September, once I get moving. Accomplishment, mixed with surprise, is a great tonic for September reluctance.

Janet Macunovich is a professional gardener and author of the books “Designing Your Gardens and Landscape” and “Caring for Perennials.” Read more from Janet on her website www.gardenatoz.com.

 

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: dividing, Janet Macunovich, moving, new plantings, plants, transplanting

What aren’t my divided peonies blooming?

August 12, 2011   •   

I divided some peonies 2 years ago and they haven’t bloomed since – neither last year, nor this year. Did I do something wrong?

Peonies are notorious for going extended lengths of time without blooming, especially following division or transplanting. They can go up to four years until they bloom again. They are exceptionally hardy, but sometimes take a little while to get their bearings after the roots are disturbed.

One thing to check, however, is the depth at which they are planted. The fleshy part of the roots should be only 1 to 2 inches below the soil surface. If planted any deeper, the plant will not bloom at all. If they are at the proper depth, getting adequate water, and receiving at least 6 hours of sunshine a day, then the best advice is to just sit tight – they will come around.

Filed Under: Ask MG Tagged With: dividing, peonies, transplanting

Tips for dividing daylilies

August 29, 2010   •   

My Stella d’Oro daylilies need to be divided. I would like to do it this fall. Do I have to remove and discard the center of each plant like I do with my Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’? Also, should I cut back the foliage after the division?

Make sure the daylilies actually need dividing. Many varieties, especially ‘Stella d’Oro’, can go several years before they need dividing. Check if they are crowded or lack flowers or vigor. Sometimes they just need a bit more deep watering (water that reaches 8 to 10 inches into the soil) especially on hot days or a light mulch to help them retain moisture. They also need fertilizer to keep them blooming happily. This is especially true for larger clumps and those planted in light or sandy soils that leach badly. The best way to determine the fertilizer needs of your plants is to do a soil sample through your MSU Extension office. You can call or go to the office and pick up a soil sample kit. Otherwise a general fertilizer low in nitrogen such as 5-10-10 should be applied a few times throughout the spring and summer.

If you’ve now determined they do need dividing, fall is a good time because the roots will grow rapidly before next year’s flowering. Dig around the clump and make sure you dig up all of the roots, especially if you will be moving the plants to another area. Otherwise a small section of root may produce another plant in the original spot. Shake off the soil so you can see the roots. You do not need to discard any part of the clump unless it is diseased or does not look like it is actively growing; the roots should look white. Cut or break the clump into sections of 3 to 5 fans each. If it is a large clump, you may only want to cut it into quarters. A single section or fan will root, but it will take a long time to form a showy plant.

Cut the tops of the plants to about 8 inches and plant the daylilies at the same level they were growing before. Prepare the soil where you will plant the divisions by loosening it about 1 foot deep. Add organic matter if you have sandy soil. Dig the hole larger than the roots and make a mound in the center of the hole. Spread the roots over the mound, cover with soil, firm it in and water well. Space plants approximately 18 inches apart. You can cover with light mulch, but leave space around the base of the plant so the mulch doesn’t smother it.

Also read: Maximizing daylily blooms

MSU Extension: Daylilies are a smart choice for many difficult garden locations

Filed Under: Ask MG Tagged With: daylilies, dividing, fall

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