Cutting the Grass

We had a warm period in late February that melted all the snow and ice, including the hazardous area behind the enclosed back porch that gets little in the way of sun. The melting allowed me to put out feeders for the first time in a week. Birds were singing in profusion and I knew spring would be here soon.

The largest of the three ornamental grasses, October 2023
(Margo D. Beller)

So would the spring chores.

There are certain plants that should be left alone over the winter, and there are plants I don't bother to cut back in autumn because it is tiring to work around, over and behind the deer netting.

Now that I have more time to go birding during the week, I have little inclination to go out on the weekend when plenty of people with kids are at the parks. So on March 1, knowing from the weather forecast the wind would start blowing and the temperature would fall during the day, I went out into the garden. 

There are many chores I do in the spring. One is digging out finished compost, which I do sporadically. (I did it last year.) Another is deadheading the plants I left standing. The most important, however, is cutting back the ornamental grasses. 

Ornamental grasses are wonderful plants. They grow tall and wide and the deer don't eat them because the leaves, at least on the type I have, are thin and spiky. But like all plants, including my beloved daffodils (another plant deer don't eat because all parts are poisonous, including the flowers), when the growing season is done there is foliage to cut back. A lot of foliage.

After a long period of dryness we had rain in November
2024 and the grass went from brown to more of a gold
color not seen well in this photo.
(Margo D. Beller)

I was not ready to start work in the garden but I knew this had to be done because eventually the daffodils and other plants in this particular area were going to start growing. The three grasses I have were pummeled by rain, snow and especially wind. The northwest wind blew hard for much of the winter, another sign of changes in the climate as the Earth's oceans continue to warm.

So I planned to attack the plants from the rear. Except I discovered behind one of them that the daffodils had started growing much earlier than usual, even before the crocus, thanks to the unusual pattern of warm weather than followed this season's very cold winter. I also found the irises I had put here after dividing the ones in the front yard were growing, too. So on this particular grass my strategy had to change. (Getting to the other two to cut them back was easier.)

I was glad to see the plants had survived, tho' disturbed by how early they had shown up. The other week I was walking along one of my usual birding areas, Patriots Path, once the ice had melted and saw a phoebe. This flycatcher, a harbinger of spring migration, should've shown up in mid-March, not Feb. 25. And yet here it was, in an area by the Whippany River where I have seen and heard them before. Now that it has become cold and windy again, will it find the food it needs to survive?

I wondered that about the yard birds, too, when I couldn't risk falling on the ice to put the feeders out (a hungry squirrel that could jump over the baffle was another factor). But they managed and were quickly at the feeders once I put them out.

The largest of the grasses before the cutting in 2024.
(Margo D. Beller)

Back to the grasses. It took about two hours to cut the three of them, the largest of them taking the most time. When I was nearly done with that one the wind picked up strong, forcing me to hold down what I had piled in a large pail for composting until things calmed down. But now you can see the growing daffodils the foliage had covered.

As for the other grass - the lawn - it is still brown from its winter dormancy. Eventually it, too, will green and grow and the area will be filled with the noise and smell of lawn mowers. For now, in the renewed cold, it is quiet out there.

Which reminds me, once again I need a spring haircut, too. 

Grasses cut, daffodils exposed after last
March's cutting. (Margo D. Beller)

March Madness (Margo's Version)

March Madness means different things to different people. For most, it means collegiate basketball. For me, it is the start of the spring cleaning period when I must get my garden cleared of leaves, pods and other winter debris before the bulk of the flowers start blooming.

This year, however, was especially mad because instead of mid-month the unusual February warmth started the daffodils in my front yard blooming two weeks early and the plants were surrounded by, or growing through, leaves. Another problem: Periods of rain expected in the coming days meant I had only two consecutive dry days to get as much done as I could.

And so it began:

Day 1

I got out later than I should've to cut back the ornamental grasses on what turned out to be a sunny, April-like March morning. These grasses, maiden grass as I recall, I planted at the same time the garden center guys planted Spruce. They are in a plot not protected by deer netting because deer don't eat these grasses with their knife-like foliage. Ornamental grasses come in various colors and grow to various heights. Mine are somewhat stunted because of the network of roots the now-departed ash tree put under them. 

One of the ornamental grasses flowering last year, at its peak.
(Margo D. Beller)

In late summer these grasses throw up plumes of reddish seed heads; in autumn, if conditions are right, the leaves go from green to gold (last autumn was one such year because of all the rain we got, and maybe because those ash roots are no longer growing).

About the only problem with these grasses is they eventually become piles of dry straw and have to be cut back in the spring so the new shoots can come up and allow the process to begin again.

The same grass, far from its peak,
before its haircut. (Margo D. Beller)

I started with the smallest of the grasses, the one closest to the edge of the property and which takes the brunt of the cold northwest winds each winter. Lawn services have the tools to cut a nice even edge. I use my long-handled lopper. The results are not the neatest but it gets the job done. As I worked I had to make sure my bench was not resting on one of the daffodils or other plants just starting to come up. (The daffodils in this area always bloom later than the ones in front, which get more of the sun.) 

The next two grasses were progressively larger and thus took longer to cut, but eventually it all got done with a minimum of damage to the green shoots coming up or the flowers growing near them as I moved my work bench or my feet around to get at the straw.

The day ended with my cutting back the butterfly bush in the front yard, which had already started leafing out. My upper back needed a good rest.

Day 2

Day 1 was a Sunday - sunny and warm, bringing out a host of neighbors, their kids and, unfortunately, their barking dogs. Usually I go inside when it gets too noisy but I had a time constraint and work to do Sunday, so I ignored them and hoped to outlast them.

Leafy liriope and the pink flowers of sedum.
(Margo D. Beller)

By contrast Day 2 was a Monday - cloudy, cooler and a work/school day. I got out by 6:20 a.m. to start raking leaves out of one of the front garden plots where there were spent liriope and sedum foliage to cut back. Both plants flower in autumn. Bees love the sedum. Unfortunately, so do the deer. That's why I had to pull down the netting as far as I could without ripping it or breaking the support poles and lean over it to do my work. As usual there is always one pole where the netting won't move smoothly either up or down. Also as usual, I wished I didn't have to do my gardening this way.

Monday turned out to be a busy day after all, but with a particular type of bird.

Cleared front area, allowing the daffodils to be seen. There
will be many more types of flowers blooming here
as the season goes on.
(Margo D. Beller)

The singing birds I expected - robins, cardinal, Carolina wren, among others. What I didn't expect were the waves of migrant Canada geese taking off from ponds or fields and heading north over my yard to their breeding grounds. They were so loud I could hear them coming long before I saw the skeins, some of which had hundreds of birds. I always stop to watch for them because the large, uneven Vs look so impressive as these families make their way, calling constantly and shifting positions every so often so a different bird could lead from the V's point. The last skein I saw must've had at least 300 birds.

(One woman coming along my street as the geese flew over was doing what must've been her morning power walk. She was talking on the phone as she walked. That must've been an important conversation for so early in the morning. She missed a fine show.) 

My work station as I cut back the grasses.
(Margo D. Beller)

I finished my chores by removing burlap and clearing debris in the backyard plot where yews are protected by netting. The geese must've known something because the first of several expected rainy days began Tuesday.

As you might expect, this annual madness took a toll on my body, but it couldn't be helped. Too-early-blooming flowers and an expected week of rain were beyond my control, so I had to work within the time I had. My reward, once this long and tedious job is done, is being able to enjoy the flowers in my garden without leaves or overgrown old foliage getting in the way.

Which reminds me, I need a haircut.