I have started the great cut-back. The scores of tall aster ‘Alma Potschke’ have mostly finished their dramatic run of pink and purple fireworks and now stand ready to reseed themselves everywhere. Birds will take some of that seed, but if I don’t get ‘Alma’ under control, I will have lots of grubbing out to do next spring.
The silver lining in this cloud of browned-out asters is that as I cut them down, I uncover places to plant the bulbs that will be arriving any day now. With the lily foliage pruned and the asters gone, the landscape is starting to assume the dimensions it had back in the spring, when everything was preparing to leap up from the ground. It is the circle of life enacted on the small canvas of a suburban backyard.
I caught Mr. Antlers and his faithful sidekick nibbling in the front yard the other day. Despite my encouragement they will not eat the dead asters, preferring greener viands. When that encouragement didn’t work, I tried histrionics, which motivated them to hightail it across the street. I wish the circle of their life did not involve occupying my neighborhood.