Part of my day was spent dumping out annual containers and preparing assorted houseplants to come back indoors. We haven’t yet had a frost in South East Massachusetts, but it’s only a matter of a couple of weeks away. I washed out saucers, refreshed the soil for amaryllis bulbs, and repotted houseplants.

Yes, it’s somewhat difficult to dump thriving, blooming plants into the brush pile. I try to balance my feelings of gratitude for their summer growth and contributions with the satisfaction of emptying the pots and paring down before winter. Part of me longs to see if I can save every single plant but in general I’m happy to goodbye to the common ones. It’s a relief not have to tend them all through the dark months.

Wow - I loved the look of the purple heart roots when I emptied this pot. All of the root hairs were so visible and beautiful!

Blog disclaimer: Although this opinionated gardener has definite thoughts about what should be cut back in the fall, and which plants should be left untouched until spring, she also knows that in gardening and life there is no one right way. Not that this changes my talk or walk on this subject.

I received an email recently that said the following: “My friend and I disagree over hard pruning late in the season. She will hard prune buddleia, hydrangea, gaillardia, penstemon, salvia, etc any time of the year. She removes lots of leaves and stems, taking them all to the ground. I was under the impression that the plants need the leaves and stems for photosynthesis.  We thought it best to consult you to learn if hard pruning this late in the season is an ok practice.  I typically prune hard in late March…”

I replied that I think most perennials can be cut to the ground at the end of the summer, particularly early flowering types like salvia and peonies that have had the entire season to build up their energy stores.

I personally use the rule that if a perennial plant looks green and healthy at this time of year, the leaves are clearly still doing a job for that plant (photosynthesis) and I leave those in the garden. If the foliage is looking yellowish, brown or worse, I cut the plant back. So I’ll be cutting things like the yellowing bleeding heart back in early July, peonies in early September etc. But the Heucheras and Campanulas that look great right now I’ll leave until later or even through the winter.

I also leave woody plants because they store carbohydrates in their stems that they use to survive the winter – the root systems  take the sugars from the stems for root growth in the fall, winter survival and even to begin the process of breaking dormancy in early spring. So the butterfly bush, roses, and hydrangeas I leave until April or even early May.

Another reason to leave these plants is that it’s likely that they will have some die-back over the winter, and by cutting them down and dying back, the plant ends up even shorter. For roses and hydrangeas this always means fewer flowers.

My guess is that my correspondent’s friend has not seen her plants dying because she’s cutting them down, and if her hydrangeas are the types that bloom on new growth, she hasn’t prohibited their flowering. If she has more than one of any particular plant and is curious, she might cut one down and leave the other in order to better judge this practice.

Ultimately things work well if we all look at what we’re doing/believing with open, curious and critical eyes. After considering all that we’ve observed, we are then prepared to say, “This is what I think and do. It might, or might not, work for you.”

I could cut this LimeLight hydrangea back hard and it would still flower next summer...but I love how the flowers fade from white to green and pink all fall. Similarly, I love the red blood grass well into October, and the Heucheras that remain attractive through most of the winter. The asters in this bed I choose to leave so that wildlife can eat the seeds. And the golden rod on the right? That I'm just too lazy to cut down.

This afternoon I arrived home around 2:30, and promptly sat down with my laptop, wondering what I should write about today. As I sat thinking, the small, wisest part of me said, “You won’t find something unless you go out and look.” So I went outdoors to work in the garden.

It’s very windy today, but mild for December, so I took the garden cart to the lakeside perennial bed and began cutting stalks. The first thing that struck me was that the wind was strong enough to ring one of the smaller bells on arbor. Most of the time the sound of the wind blowing through trees was louder than the bell, and I appreciated that it was nature, not a manmade sound, that predominated. In fact, the occasional soft tinkling mixed in with more predominant windy gusts seemed just right.

As I cut the perennial stems down, I discovered another reason for clearing the garden before winter. If you read my postings on Nov 30^th and Dec 1^st, you know that I’ve been talking about the benefits of clearing a perennial garden in the fall, and the advantages of leaving those plants until spring.

One of those reasons for leaving the garden alone is that the spent plants provide shelter and food for wildlife. Today, I found another reason to remove the perennials: they provide shelter and food for wildlife…just not the sort of wildlife I want to encourage.

Two years ago I planted perennial sweet peas on the edge of this bed, intending that the plants would cascade over the stonewall and soften the massive boulders. They did tumble over the rocks, but they also grew into a dense mat that covered large sections in the back of this bed. When I walked up to snip the old sweet pea stalks, and pull the mass out of the garden, my feet sank into the ground. Something was tunneling underneath the surface.

Once the sweet pea foliage was cleared, I could see entry holes and surface gullies where the animals have been traveling. Moles, voles or chipmunks? I’m not sure, but the little darlings have devoured the roots and crown of all of the Baptisia in this area. This is not what I had in mind when I spoke of the wisdom of providing food and shelter for wildlife.

Next year I’ll dig the sweet peas and plant them elsewhere. The rootless stalks of Baptesia got taken to the compost, and instead of replanting these rodent delicacies, I’ll plant some Digitalis, Nicotiana, or something else that’s poisonous.

In case moles are at work, I dropped some of the Mole Worms, sent to me by the Liquid Fence people, down the holes and in the obvious tunnels. I’ll use some other repellants such as cayenne pepper as well, and clearing the plants from this area will help expose the critters to local predators such as owls, skunks, coyote and fox.

I’m not happy that some of my plants have been eaten, or that there is a warren of tunnels that create ankle-turning spongy areas throughout this garden. But I’m not willing to declare all out war, and seed this garden with synthetic poisons.

I am hoping that my strategy of bringing the area into balance will help. I want the human presence in my garden to blend as seamlessly, and as secondarily, as the gentle tinkling of a bell amid a robust, gusting wind.

It would take a gale to ring the heavy metal bells, but today the wind rang the coral ceramic bell with ease.

In front of the cart is the foliage from just one perennial sweet pea plant.

The dark areas are gullies - critter highways, really - that were under the sweet pea stems and leaves.

I heard from fellow garden writer Jo Ellen Meyers Sharp this morning, asking about an article I’ve written for Angie’s List Magazine. Although she hadn’t read yesterday’s blog post, her email continued the conversation about clearing perennial gardens at this time of year.

Jo Ellen mentioned that some gardeners leave the stalks as food for the birds and wildlife. This is a sensitive and valid approach to gardening…it’s just one that I follow only on a limited basis.

I leave the seed heads on all of the plants that grow in my wild area. Here, black-eyed Susans, assorted Verbascum and red clover happily stand untouched, with assorted grasses and weeds. I even bring some stalks and seed-heads from garden perennials and drop them in this area, hoping that some of the seeds may sprout…but if the wildlife gets them first, then so be it.

The perennial gardens that are closer to the house are cleared, however, because I want a neater look in these areas. I want the weeds that have germinated in the last three months to be gone. Yesterday I cleaned the entry garden, and later this week will cut the asters down from the lakeside border. Come April, I should have a clear shot at mulching without having to remove old plants, or weed first.

The wonderful thing about gardening methods is that there are many ways to do things, and I’m free to change my mind at any point. Perhaps next year I’ll decide that Jo Ellen was right.

What I am ultimately aiming for, in and out of the garden, is the flexibility to try different things and consider other points of view. I’ve learned that for us humans, this may not be as easy as it sounds.

One of the talks I present to horticultural gatherings is called Myths, Lies, And All The Latest Dirt. In it, I debunk some of the beliefs we all learned as young gardeners. “Moss in the lawn means you need to lime,” and the like.

There are some in the audience whose eyes light up when I discredit some long-held belief, and many laugh with pleasure to learn that there are long-practiced tasks that they don’t have to do. But there are always a few whose mouths turn down with displeasure. It seems that some people would rather not learn that there’s a different way or new understanding.

I say blessed are the flexible, for they shall never be bent out of shape.

Maybe I’ll leave the asters standing in the lakeside garden after all.

I leave all of the native grasses in the garden through the winter. Here, a Panicum sprawls at the edge of the fragrance garden. No, it's not fragrant... I just parked it here last year, and will move it down to the wild area next spring.

The dark stems of the Woods Blue asters are kind of attractive in the lakeside perennial bed right now. To clear or not to clear, that is the question.

There are still many plants in the garden that I normally would have cut back long ago, but there they are, a testament to my procrastination. This morning, I decided that I’m glad that I haven’t cleared them out.

I like the colorful, messy mix of yellowing leaves, final flowers and oak leaves. Here, delay has been a good thing.

Later, on my way into the garden center, I passed by a corner where a local merchant has created a fall display. I’ve driven past this arrangement of pumpkins at least fifty times since it was installed, and each time I’d think, “I have to take a picture of that.”

This morning was no exception, except a block later I told myself to “Do it now!” so I slowed, turned, and drove around the block in order to stop and snap the photograph.

When I got home from work I decided to stay in this mode of action. My husband has been asking me to clean my stuff off of the desk in the kitchen for days, and I’ve been eyeing the Leaning Tower of Print in my bedroom for months. Do it now, I thought, and it all got done. (Note to self: write “take paper and magazines into recycling center” on the next Do It Now list.)

My last project was to put some winter décor in the birdbath outside. See, I’ve had an urn filled with assorted pinecones indoors for so long that the cones are beginning to compost right there on the hall table. My plan has been to move the best ones out to the birdbath, along with some moon shells and a string of pinecone lights.

As simple as this project sounds, it took at least ten trips to the basement to find the right extension cord, timer, and light string to replace the one that didn’t work. Over an hour later, my simple porch décor was finished.

I looked with satisfaction from the lit birdbath arrangement to the winding-down and riotous front garden, and understood that life has its rhythms. Sometimes, it’s the snap, snap, snap of things being accomplished…and other times it’s a slowing tempo that leads to discovery.

Here is how the leaf dotted, fading garden looked this morning. Splendid.

The Leaning Tower of Print, which I can say with satisfaction is no longer there.

Here's the birdbath with cones, shells and lights.

I love the contrast of the very textured pine cones and the smooth moon shells.

If you’re a gardener, being in the present means focusing on the current moment, while keeping a foot in the past and an eye to the future. This sounds like a balancing act, but really it’s just a matter of taking care of seasonal business.

The Past: I finished clearing weeds and frosted annuals out of Annual Alley today. The frost-killed container plants were also emptied into the compost pile, and the pots put into the shed.

The Present: Every were I looked, colorful fall foliage stopped me in my tracks, so I spent some time taking photographs before returning to my fall clean up. I also took pictures of the recently emptied clay pots, now in the seed-starting part of the shed. These pots will absorb the sun’s heat during the day, releasing it at night and helping to keep this room warm. One of the pots I’d emptied contained some succulents worth saving, so I potted them up and took them downstairs.

The Future: I have a tower of power in the basement, where many of the Epiphyllums, and assorted cuttings are overwintered under lights. The small pots on the lower shelf contain succulents, Plectranthus and Coleus cuttings that are taking root. These are components of next year’s garden.

What we grew last summer dictates fall garden chores, and what’s done now will helpful for next summer’s gardening. I was fully present in today’s landscape, aware of the past and providing for the future.

Here is how Annual Alley looked this past summer.

The only color left in this area is on the small current bush at the end of Annual Alley. Today, I pulled all the dead annuals out.

You can't beat this Amsonia hubrichtii (yellow) and the 'Center Glow' Physocarpus (red/purple) for fall color.

And look at this Franklinia - Foliage color and flowers!

OK, I admit that we didn't plan for these pots to be a heat-sink in this seed-starting shed. But they function beautifully this way, and after mid-February the temps in this shed never go below freezing.

Here are some cuttings taken for next year's garden. See the lovely epiphyllums flowers?

Many of the calls on GardenLine this morning were about fall cleanup: what to cut down, keep or throw away. When I got back from the radio station I did some clipping, dumping and raking myself, and composted this list of guidelines.

1.  Anyone who bags leaves and ships them off their property is a fool. Leaves are fantastic for soil amendment. Pile them and let them compost for a year, or chop them with the lawnmower and use them for mulching the beds.

2.  It’s fine if you want to keep potted annuals such as geraniums and mandevilla vine, but it’s perfectly OK to toss them in the compost. If you can’t bare to throw out plants that are still blooming and looking good, leave them outside until the temperatures go below 30. Oops! They frosted and died…guess they need to go!

3.  It’s better to leave woody plants in the garden as is, and save the trimming and pruning for spring. This applies to lavender, roses, butterfly bush, Russian sage and summer flowering spirea.

4.  When uncertain which perennials to cut back in the fall, let my little rhyme be a guide. If it’s green, it must be seen. If it’s brown, cut it down. Simply explained, if the foliage looks as good as it did in the summer, than it’s probably capable of photosynthesis, and is still doing a job for the plant. If the foliage has turned brown or is on its way, the plant has shut down for the winter and it’s fine to cut it down to an inch or two tall.

5.  If you want to wait and clear the garden in the spring, that’s a perfectly acceptable approach. The up side is that the wildlife appreciates the seeds and shelter, and many dead plants look pretty with the snow on them. The downside is that any diseases such as mildew spores stay in the garden, and the seeds present may sprout next spring. There is not clear right or wrong, however, so do what suits you best.

In all areas of life we are well off asking what is serving us well, or which things should be discarded. It’s just easier in the garden.