Season’s end a good time to relocate garden plants
As we approach summer’s end, my hands are itching to get back to serious planting.
I’ve been making careful notes all spring and summer to remind me of bare spots among the perennials during each blooming season. Now I’m ready to fill those spots for lush and continuous blooms next year.
I’ll start by moving a flowering quince that needs more sun, and several roses, mostly miniatures, to a newly established, sunny flowerbed. A dwarf barberry in need of breathing room will much prefer the space that’s being vacated by the roses, and that bed can also accommodate the extra daylilies and oriental poppies I’ll divide.
Newly divided irises should show to advantage in a bare, sunny spot against a weathered wood fence.
An attractive hosta once shaded by a large rhododendron that moved out this spring is suffering from sunburn and hoping for shadier quarters, so I’ll divide it and let the new starts thrive where the quince didn’t.
Dividing and moving all of these plants now gives them time to establish new roots before winter sets in and to absorb as much moisture as possible before the ground freezes.
My favorite tools for these tasks are a transplanting fork and spade, a sharp kitchen cleaver, a bucket and a large watering can.
The fork is invaluable for carefully lifting the plants from their original location. The spade helps out with that, too, and prepares a new planting hole large enough to accommodate roots comfortably.
Years ago, I brought a sharp kitchen cleaver outside to cut through some tough roots, and I have used it for that ever since. It handles well, cuts cleanly and doesn’t damage the roots.
Other sharp knives probably work just as well; I just happen to like my cleaver.
The bucket comes in handy when I need to keep the plant roots moist. I also use it to soak soil from the roots to check on the root system’s health and determine where to make dividing cuts.
I remove anything that looks dried up and dead before replanting.
A new transplant needs adequate water to thrive, and for that I like to use the watering can. Using a hose, I invariably get watered more than the plants do.
While I’m dividing and transplanting, I’ll add a few more spring-blooming bulbs to the garden. Our soil and climate suits them, and they brighten up the garden when little else is willing to risk braving the weather. Most local nurseries have a good supply of spring bulbs available now, and I always find several new varieties to try.
Along with crocuses, daffodils and tulips, I’m adding some native camas, yellow-bells, and flowering onions this year.
What to do in the garden
Plant spring bulbs and mark the area where they’re planted. Include some fertilizer and bone meal in the planting hole, and water a few times before the ground freezes.
Bulbs are usually planted about two and a half times as deep as they are wide.
September is garlic planting month, too. Garlic should be planted 5 to 6 inches deep and 8 inches apart. Mark the rows so you don’t dig them up again in the spring.
Check houseplants for insect pests and hose them off thoroughly before bringing them back into the house. If necessary, spray the plants with insecticidal soap, carefully following the directions on the container.
The time is ideal for planting a new lawn as the weather turns cooler and we get some rain. Choose seed mixtures that fit your site.
Bluegrass varieties are suited to sunny areas; for shady areas, try fescue.
Continue to pull weeds before they go to seed and spread.
Pull and compost healthy but spent vegetable plants. Don’t add diseased plants and weed seeds to compost.
Weed seeds are survivors and may show up wherever the finished compost ends up in the garden. That’s also true of some annual and perennial flowers.
Unless you keep the seed heads out of the compost, those plants may pop up all over the garden.
Enjoy those succulent, tasty home-grown tomatoes. Watch for that first frost, though, and cover the plants if a frost is predicted. You can also bring any remaining green tomatoes indoors if they’re beginning to turn color.
They’ll ripen to red on a windowsill.