THE WORST-CASE SCENARIO GUIDE TO PRUNING

To my knowledge there is no garden task that strikes fear into the heart of gardeners so much as pruning. By my estimation, the two most likely explanations for this are:

1. We've all been scolded and made to feel bad/silly/stupid for pruning incorrectly.
2. We live in perpetual fear of killing plants by pruning incorrectly.

There are rules for pruning. Oh boy are there rules. Start with the hardest: When to prune? There's no doubt that there is a better time to prune to maximize future flowering and keep the shrub or plant looking its best. But how is a gardener supposed to keep track of what to prune when, when everything seems to have its own very specific set of rules?

This is a newer cultivar of Spirea that only gets lightly shaped after blooming, but older varieties can turn into woody, ugly behemoths if not pruned at all. 

Then there is the question of how much we're supposed to be pruning, and how should we physically prune?

Most of the answers aren't that hard to remember:

WHEN: Spring-blooming shrubs generally set their flowers on "old wood," aka the previous year's growth, so if you prune anytime between late summer and early the following spring, you'll be cutting of the flower buds. Summer- and fall-blooming shrubs can be cut back in very late winter or very early spring (in my zone 5 garden this typically involves walking through a bit of snow). It's generally safe to prune right after flowering, but on something like Virburnums, you would be cutting off the branches where beautiful berries will form.

HOW MUCH: The general rule of thumb is to not prune more than 25 percent of a shrub or tree's growth in a year. Some push that to 33 percent, but I err on the side of a quarter.

HOW: To keep it simple, you at least want to prune back to something, usually a branch but maybe a leaf node at least. Often you may want to consider something called rejuvenation pruning, where you remove some of the oldest branches/stems all the way to the ground.

Of course there are finer points that go well beyond these. As gardeners get more into gardening, as is usually the case, these details become second nature. But in the meantime I feel like the gardeners who know those details are doing a good job of scaring the pants off new gardeners who may quickly decide that gardening is too complicated and they don't have time or space in their brain for such details. And that's sad, because while it is certainly better to have intimate knowledge of how and when to prune every plant we grow, the world will not end if you don't.

In other words, let's stop spreading the fear of pruning.

In fact, while some people may tell you that you MUST prune at a certain time, I'd like to challenge that idea. And by the way, I'm not alone. Christopher Lloyd, the late, great British gardener who did much to influence how we think of gardens today at his Great Dixter, has said that the best time to prune is when you have the tools in your hand and you think of it.

"The wrong time may be the only opportunity and a preferable alternative to not doing something at all," he wrote in The Adventurous Gardener. "Or it may not be the wrong time, contrary to accepted practice as quoted in gardening literature, if you act cannily. It's all very well to accept received advice and opinions gratefully and at face value when you're starting, but we graduate. You'll make mistakes but you'll perhaps learn not to mind making them. That's a great release from all sorts of inhibitions."

In other words, it's far better to prune at the wrong time than it is to not prune at all, which is a far more common and possibly egregious crime against horticulture. (Exception: There are many shrubs, that, when planted in an appropriate location can and should be allowed to live their lives with little to no pruning, short of removing dead wood.)

I planted this Viburnum plicatum 'Mariesii' in an area where it will be allowed to grow to its full size, maybe 10 feet tall and wide or more, so I will never need to prune it for size. 

Sometimes, when considering doing something in life that I'm not entirely comfortable with, I think, "What's the worst that could happen?"

And I believe that might be a good approach to pruning as well. If you have the time and the tools handy, what's the worst that could happen if you prune a shrub at a less than optimal time? And in most cases the answer is that you'd negatively affect its next flowering period. So is that so terrible? Well, it probably is if it's the shrub around which you planned your entire garden, or if you have a garden wedding planned specifically for when a particular shrub blooms.

Hydrangeas, perhaps more than any other shrub, strike fear into the hearts of gardeners when it comes time for pruning. This is Hydrangea panniculata Limelight, which blooms on new wood at the ends of branches. I cut it back somewhat hard (some years more than others) in late winter, and in recent years have taken out the oldest stem all the way to the base to encourage new growth. What's the worst that would happen if I didn't prune it that way? If I failed to prune it all it would still flower, but it would get to its full size, 8 or more feet tall and eventually dead wood, if not removed, would sully its appearance. If I pruned at the wrong time, I would probably get later, fewer and smaller flowers (if pruned well into spring) or maybe nothing different would happen if I pruned in fall instead of winter.

To me, the worst-case scenario of something that could happen to a shrub is that you'd kill it, and providing that you follow the other two rules (particularly the one about how much to prune), it's unlikely you'll do that.

Now think about the worst-case scenario if, year after year, you forget to prune a shrub when you are supposed to and never touch it because you don't want to prune at the wrong time. You may end up with an overgrown shrub that outgrows its location and is so badly shaped that it can't be salvaged. And then you end up taking it out, probably after several years of looking at a pretty ugly shrub. In effect, you make the decision to end it's life.

The point is this: No one wants to reduce flowering accidentally, but I think it's time we stop acting like pruning at the wrong time is one of the seven deadly sins. Not to mention, Lloyd's point about making mistakes is a good one: Sometimes it's the best way to learn in the garden.

Rather, I'd counsel gardeners to check a good gardening reference book or even Google (add .edu to the end of your search and you're more likely to quickly get to more reliable information) for pruning information for their specific plant if they know what it is. But if you don't and you have the tools in your hand and you know it's likely the only time you'll have for the job, go for it.

What's the worst that can happen?

CRAZY TIME IN THE GARDEN + FRIDAY FINDS

We've officially hit the height of Holy Crap There's a Lot to Do in the Garden season. I've been taking it chunk by chunk, trying to completely finish one area before starting on another. The problem with this plan, of course, is that the other areas of the garden farther down the list are turning into jungles while they wait for their turn.

Short of hiring help, which I talk about every year and then come up with 18 reasons why that won't work, there's nothing to be done about it other than to just plod on. It is frustrating because right now a good amount of time is spent tending annuals and other plants that have congregated in multiple areas of my yard while they await planting. And yet, I'm still on the fence about whether I want to plant containers this weekend. It's still quite cold at night here (often in the 40s), and that's not treatment that most annuals like. Right now I can cover them all at night, but once they are in containers, it's every plant for itself.

Anyway, there's no question what I'm doing this weekend. Gardening. I'll take a few breaks for some Memorial Day gatherings and a graduation party, but we're rapidly getting to the part where I wish all the big work in the garden were done and I could go into maintenance mode. Also ... why are there so  many weeds? It is infuriating.

There are moments of glory in the garden though and here's one. This spirea. I'm pretty sure it's Glow Girl and I'm very sure I planted it too close to another spirea, but holy smokes, that foliage is outstanding. A loose hedge of these would be phenomenal.

I feel like that rogue ostrich fern is photobombing this picture.

Speaking of containers, which I guess I was about four paragraphs ago, I planted my first one last weekend, just to do one because I couldn't wait any longer. And I made a video of it. Check it out here and stick around the mini blooper toward the end of it.

And now a few finds for this Friday:

It's Chelsea Flower Show time, so I've been checking out all the gardens. Honestly it's a bit of a let down from previous years, but apparently the Brexit vote came right around the time they were taking garden submissions and very few companies felt comfortable spending money sponsoring show gardens then. Anyway, this is my favorite of the bunch. I'm not at all a fan of the Best in Show garden, although I imagine it garnered major points for being such a huge undertaking.

I think my friend Linda's garden looks better in spring than any other time of the year. She has such interesting foliage plants that all the fresh green popping up is delightful. Do check out her blog to see the fabulous photos she's been posting lately.

If you're into fairy gardens, don't miss Lisa's adorable wheelbarrow garden. I had a wheelbarrow that meant a lot to me and when it rusted out and got wobbly we pitched it. I now wish I would have saved it for a mini garden/container. Woulda coulda shoulda.

A few weeks ago I did a cocktail hour stroll through the garden, completely with cocktail making, on a live Facebook broadcast. It got LONG (I'm a talker), but if you want to check it out here you go. I want to do more of these (but maybe as videos instead of live broadcasts) because I can't think of a better match than cocktails and gardens.

Well that's it for me. What are you up to this weekend? Anything OTHER than gardening? Or do you take these holiday weekends off from the garden?

EXTENDING FALL COLOR

There's been no sign of frost here and none in the forecast through the weekend. Surely it will happen next week. The delayed onset of cold weather is just fine with me (although I fear having to wrap up so much in the garden in very cold weather, because when it does come I think it's going to come quickly), not in the least because the garden looks remarkably good right now.

There are a lot of leaves down, but plenty of plants are still putting on a show, somewhat unexpectedly.

Here's a bit of the color happening around the garden. I've shared a few of these on Instagram this week too.

Most of the leaves on my favorite maple have fallen, but they are pretty even on the ground. I imagine I will find them less attractive when I'm cleaning them up.

I planted Amsonia hubrichti in part for its texture but also for its fall color, which is stunning even if everything around it is looking sort of shabby.

A closeup of Amsonia hubrichtii.

Gingko biloba 'Gnome' is showing lovely, almost variegated color.

How can you not love those frilly leaves?

A week ago Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium' looked like this. Absolutely stunning.

It's clearly past its peak now, but still beautiful.

A closeup of a leaf from last week.

The climbing hydrangea is always a stunner this time of year.

I struggle with the garden on the north side of the house, but perhaps fall is its beast season.

On the right side of that garden is this stunning spirea. I have to search around underneath it for a tag. 

Spirea closeup.

The 'Venus' dogwood in that garden has gorgeous color even if it doesn't show too well from afar.

I always forget the name of this shrub that I picked up on a whim at the Klehm's Song Sparrow open day a few years ago, but I love its shiny leaves.

Here's a closeup.

Some of the 'Limelight' hydrangeas have gone a bit over, but a few still have a lovely rosy blush.

I always forget that hostas bring great fall color as well. Sure, they are a little poopy, but they are the prettiest golden color. 

What's the color situation in your garden?