WOEFUL SHRUBS
The snow is receding and there is jubilation in the suburbs. I have never been so glad to see parts of my driveway as I have this week. Even better is the sight of the tips of crocus leaves sticking up about one quarter inch above the soil beside that same driveway.
My exaltation turns to despair as I gaze on the poor abused shrubs. Now that much of the icy snow has melted off, the winter damage is very apparent and it includes masses of broken branches, deformed limbs and formerly shapely specimens tilting at odd angles. My privet hedge has a case of horticultural “bed head,” with branches pointing every which way. Since Christmas, the little Carolina silver bell tree in the front strip has had about twenty tons of iceberg snow piled on it, courtesy of the town plows. I think I can detect buds on the two branches that protrude from the diminishing snow mound. It looks as if the silver bell survived, but it will take another week of melting before I can be sure.
Amidst all this carnage, the question on everyone’s lips is, “What should I do about my shrubs?” When you couple winter’s destruction with the fear of pruning that afflicts about ninety percent of homeowners, you have a real conundrum taking shape. I am formulating my own battle plan, with high hopes that I can start implementing it next week.
I have a distinct advantage over many of my fellow gardeners, because last year’s laziness has worked well for me. I didn’t cut back most of my butterfly bushes in the fall and Mother Nature–or Father Blizzard–has done at least part of that job. Since butterfly bushes can and should be trimmed back to about eighteen inches tall every spring, I can do it quickly, unimpeded by guilt about the deadly sin of sloth or fears about killing the plants. Most butterfly bushes are un-killable anyway.
My “bed head” privet is going to get a fashionable short haircut. By chopping off about a foot of mangled, sad-looking top growth, I should have an orderly short hedge that will be poised to put out healthy new branches. By summer the privet will look as if winter never happened.
The five large hybrid musk rose bushes by the driveway have been buried under multiple feet of driveway snow ever since the day after Christmas. I have been telling myself for six weeks that the snow is good insulation for them, but soon I will know the truth. The bushes are tough, hardy and growing on their own roots, so I suspect they are alive. At the very least, they will also get a dramatic haircut, but something more interesting may well happen. Just last week I was reading about standardizing rose bushes to train them into the shapes of small trees. Many “tree roses” sold by various merchandisers are actually two plants melded together, with decorative specimen roses grafted onto the trunks of tall upright varieties. Sometimes, however, you can forego grafting and standardize a good rose bush with a tall habit. My hybrid musks fit that description and I may consider taking that step with some or all of them. Doing so would rejuvenate the bushes and give me more space underneath for plants.
The Hydrangea quercifolia that has been threatening to subsume the house is going to get rejuvenation pruning this year, even at the risk of losing its beautiful blossoms. I have been putting off the task because the bush is taller than I am, but the need to eliminate winter damage has given me the motivation I need for the job. The pizza delivery man will finally be able to see the house number and I am sure he will thank me.
My large, cloud-pruned yew seems to be emerging unscathed by winter’s wrath. This is probably because it is the least-loved shrub on the property. It needs to be pruned to maintain its shape and keep its size under control, but my daughter favors removing it all together and replacing it with a tree lilac. I am not sure I am ready for such a step, but I am considering growing a clematis vine up the yew to make it a little more colorful. The jury is still out on the lilac versus yew/clematis debate.
The many non-hybrid musk rose bushes will get haircuts or rejuvenation pruning, depending on the level of winter damage. I don’t think any have been lost, so if I want to plant additional roses, I will just have to eliminate more of the front lawn.
This weekend I will sharpen all my pruning tools. I am aching to get out in the garden and start the task. By the end of it all, my arms and back will ache and no matter what gloves I wear, my fingertips will be full of rose prickles. It will feel like spring.