by Sandy Swegel
A week of warm days meant it was time to cut back the ornamental grasses that are so popular in Colorado. What is winter interest in December and January now looks messy and broken by winter winds and snow load. Cutting back big grasses can be a bear of a task but it has its unexpected rewards.
Feather reed grasses like Karl Forster should be cut first because they green up the earliest so look much nicer if they get their haircut while mostly dormant. One secret to keeping your ornamental grasses looking good (so you don’t have to dig them up and divide them much) is to cut them very short to within an inch or two of the ground instead of the ugly foot high cut that’s don’t in urban medians.
And in that inch or two above the ground is where I found the tiny neighborhoods hidden in winter debris. The noise and racket I made cutting and then raking brought out the inhabitants.
First, adult ladybugs flew up…a little surprised at the sudden sun but not too alarmed…mostly looking around for aphids to eat, maybe water to drink.
Next the young lime-green lacewings stirred, reluctant to be disturbed as the true adolescents they were. They tried to just move a centimeter to the left under some other debris to go back to sleep. The bug equivalent of pulling the blankets over their heads.
Finally, I accidentally disturbed a solitary bee that was half an inch under the soil. Poor bee was in a semi-dormant state and just lay on its side barely moving as the earthquake that was me had just thrown him to the surface. They reminded me more of the college student down in the basement on Spring Break. The house needs to be burning down before they wake up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. I learned the hard way to be sure to wear gloves when because a groggy bee will reflexively sting you much like that surly college student is likely to throw something at you at 7 am. I took a bit of loose dirt and debris and buried the bee again, hoping it would just settle down unharmed. No point in waking up now before breakfast was ready. The dandelions don’t have flowers yet.
Nature in late winter hides most of her inhabitants. They are in tiny nests under grasses and at the feet of willows or in debris under the shrubs. The insects I saw in my first venture into the garden don’t bolt awake as we do on a Monday morning trying to get to work. They’re more like cats, stretching and maybe yawning then turning around to find another comfy position to sleep in. They are just adorable.