The Annual Autumn Vermont Garden Disassemble Is Like A Natural Theatrical Production Closing

The closing fall act of part of my gardens in St.  Albans, Vermont.
Time to tear it down for the season and plan for an even
bigger, better show next season.

 I'm always a little sad this time of year when a Vermont gardening season ends for the autumn.  Like the feeling you get at the end of the best play or movie you've ever seen. 

I'm mostly a flower gardener, so I picture the growing season as a theatrical arc. 

The opening act of the show are the early springtime crocuses and daffodils, and end with asters and surviving sunflowers. In between, a big cast of actors, I mean flowers, have their big moments.

My husband is a theatrical set designer. When a play runs its course, and it's time to close it down and disassemble everything, that process is known as "strike."

So as the air cools, what's going on in my Vermont gardens is "strike."  It's time to tear everything down, and lay the groundwork for the next big production, which will of course open next spring. 

Garden "strike" is a lot of work. You have to cut back the dead and dying perennials, heavily mulch the most sensitive plants, protect the evergreens from marauding winter deer and other animals. That's just the start. There's tons of other tasks to complete before the snow really flies. 

"Strike" is an all hands on deck activity in the theater, and in the garden. 

As much work as it is, and the regret we feel from the annual loss of garden color as winter sets in, there's a lot of positives. The annual autumn ritual of "strike" makes me feel in tune with the seasons, with nature, and its cycles. .

I have ADHD, which makes routines a challenge for me. Ma Nature forces me to pay attention to her routine. I'd better act on her directives or else. If I don't the next gardening theatrical production collapses. 

The chit chat during a theatrical strike often involves what went right, and what went wrong with the just-ended production.  The conversation also looks forward to what the crew will do for the next play or show. How to make the next performance even better than the last. 

It's the same way in a Vermont garden this time of year. It's time to assess, and plan what to do next year to make the show better, more spectacular, able to draw a crowd. 

During the garden strike, I tear out a fixture that once worked great, but no longer does. The plant is now ugly, or doesn't fit with the scheme anymore. It's often too late in the autumn to put something in the failure's place, so that goes into the plan for next year's show. 

The show will get bigger, so I'm adding beds. And throwing in some bulbs to expand the early spring cast next April and May. 

Some of the actors will have new roles. For instance, over time, some nice ferns have gotten lost in a sea of larger flowers where they are now. Time to transplant the decorative ferns into a shade garden, so they can have a starring role for a change. 

Theatrical strikes move quickly.  It's amazing how fast an entire set is taken down, disassembled, and stored away neatly for next time. Just like the theater, I'm under a deadline, too.

Everything has to get done before the snow flies and the ground freezes. Winter is part of the production, too.

Now that I'm getting my ideas together, winter will be a time of table reads, set designing, rehearsals and other preparations.  After all, it's only a matter of time before opening day arrives in the theater that is a big perennial garden.