Cutting Back the Dieback

Amazing what results after a full day of rain. As though that was the blessing from above the garden awaited to persuade it that now is the time to fully awaken. Not that it hadn't been doing too badly before, truth to tell. And I wonder to myself whether I have this impression every spring that things are popping out of the ground at an alarming rate. And maturing even faster. We've got powerfully good garden soil, thanks to the regular dumping of compost resulting from all that kitchen and garden waste we feed into our composters.

The richly enhanced growing medium, the hot sun and occasional rain do wonders both to our spirits after our long winter, and to the garden on which we labour so lovingly. There's always so much to be done. The various clematis vines are in different stages of growth, some just beginning their thrust out of the soil and straggling upward, others burgeoning all over their trellis supports so vigorously that I can hardly keep up with the need to encourage wayward strands to curl neatly to the metal fans spread on brickwork and fencing.

The rain has gifted us with many additional surprises; the Siberian irises that a day before gave no hint whatever of raising flower heads suddenly, this morning are full of floral heads. The two rhododendrons have decided to open their overwintering flower buds and their crimson flowers shout in triumph at their debut. The magnolia, now covered expansively with its shining hard leaves, still holds aloft its magnificent flowers. The tree peony in the front garden has thrust open its lusciously huge pink flowers.

The irises have suddenly all raised their flower heads, promising to open as we speak in hushed, unbelieving tones, pointing all these wonders out to each other. And then there are the garden puzzles; the two Tamarisks, one in the back garden which has finally begun to grow its fuzzy little leaflets which will eventually branch into a fuzz of complex tiny pink flowerets. The other, in the front, standing between the Amur maple and the splendid flowering bridal wreath spirea has not a tinge of green on it yet. It may require severe trimming.

The purple smoke tree in the border along the back fence has finally started its bright mahogany growth, but the tall whips that had hosted leafs last year stand bare and naked. Yet the branches low on the bush are growing at an exponential rate and have already begun their efflorescences. It didn't manage to bloom at all, last year, despite its outrageous growth. I can hardly wait to see it flower this summer. The miniature weeping willow that stands in front of the deck has suffered dieback on either side, and I've cut it back mercilessly.
It looks lopsided, but will eventually reassume its balanced umbrella head.

The dreadfully disappointing humming bird vine that we had babied for six years and which had never once given us a flower, because our soil is too rich and it prefers a more meagre growing medium, was cut down early last year, because to add insult to outrage it kept growing like a lunatic weed, reaching up over the eaves of the garage and curling itself over onto the low garage roof, as well. I had, a few years earlier, taken a "pup" it had produced and planted it in the back border, just below the rock garden and now I see that the parent vine has somehow endured and resuscitated itself, in the front.

Just this very evening, as my husband took the garbage out to the curb for morning pick-up, he decided to fill up one of the paper compost bags, and took the liberty of "evening out" the purple smoke tree, cutting down the bare whips as he had threatened, even as I restrained him, hoping they would soon show signs of life. When he informed me of what he had done, pleased with himself, and describing the "ball" of new growth he'd left intact, I asked whether he'd left the longer strands with the inflorescences, and he responded: "what?".

Tomorrow, before the garbage is collected, I'll do some cut-back myself, trimming a few branches of the large pine in the front, grown too far over the oldest of our rose bushes and keeping the sun at bay. The new side branches growing so lustily on the magnolia will also be lopped, since they're beginning to interfere with the sovereignty of the Sargentii crab closest to it.

A gardener's work is never done. Sigh. :)