A few weeks ago, I cut back my Matilija Poppy (Romneya coulteri); as I have done to a small degree many times before. However, this year, upon doing some research about the growing patterns and best practices for managing these beautiful plants, I came across a few articles discussing the benefits of cutting back poppies to about 2-4 inches from the ground in the fall, to allow for abundant fresh growth in the spring.
Before I share further, I have to give you a little context about the emotional connection I have to this particular plant. When my grandmother was alive, one of her favorite flowers was the Matilija Poppy. Her house had numerous paintings featuring its delicate white petals in various arrangements. After her death, and when we had finally purchased a home of our own, I wanted to finally have a plant of my own to honor her love and mine. In my research to learn about how best to grow these incredible flowers, I found that Matilija Poppies like terrible soils. It is no great exaggeration that the worse the soil, the bigger and more abundant these plants seem to grow. I had the PERFECT spot! It was a rocky, dusty, compacted corner of our little hillside planter that had been expertly hid by some obnoxious invasive ornamental. I feverishly ripped out the old plant and dug the best hole I could for the new inhabitant. Then, I raced over to the local nursery and grabbed the first poppy I saw.
I planted that poppy a little over a year before the infamous Thomas Fire that ripped its way across our local landscape. In the first year, my poppy didn’t do much; she survived, but barely. She was content, but not enthralled with her new home.
But, oh, when that fire came through and the sky was grey with ash for over a month; suddenly that poppy BURST into life! New growth popped up in every crack and crevice. Flowers were so big and heavy that the branched bowed under their weight. Matilija Poppies aren’t the most long lasting cut flowers (they usually die within 12-48 hours); but I was placing them in vases around the house just to make room for the abundant blooms crowding her crown. That year, my garden was rich with Matilija Poppies, but so was the entire Ojai Valley, as long dormant plants began waking up and covering the hillsides.
Since 2017, my plant has grown to a massive size, towering over the spring garden like a queen.
So, it would come to no one’s surprise that when I read that I was expected to cut back this magnificent plant to just a few stubbly inches; my heart caught in my throat. What if I killed her? What if she never recovered? What if I lost her? I have learned enough about gardening over the years to know that sometimes it is an absolute trust-fall to grow and nurture plant beings through their various life cycles and needs; and sometimes a little bit of destruction is a part of that process.
So, I took many deep breaths, sharpened my clippers, and cut her down to just above the earth. As I finished, I looked down at the gritty pile of rocks she had called home for the past eight or so years and prayed a little prayer over the remaining stubble of stems, “Please let me know I did the right thing. Please come back when you are ready. I’ll be here, waiting.”
I wouldn’t have to wait long. For just a few short weeks later, as my partner and I sat talking in the garden we noticed a shimmer of silvery green adorning many of the shorn stems of the poppy plant. Already she was pouring her energy into reemergence. And, these were not just a few scrawny little leaves here and there; a majority of the stems were ripe with rich, vibrant new growth that looked healthy and exuberant.
I sat with her for many moments; admiring the strength and gloriousness with which she was emerging from such a drastic change. Matilija Poppy’s wisdom is in its ability to adapt and accept adversity; alchemizing it into fuel for abundance. It is a plant that not only has a multitude of reproductive pathways; but even the germination of its seeds requires the destruction of fire to emerge from their slumber. It thrives in soils otherwise abandoned by other plants; and when its aerial parts are broken away, its’ safely buried rhizomes go to work replenishing that growth with thicker and more abundant richness.
What might the world look like, if all of us embodied a little of the wisdom of the poppy? Allowing adversity and change to wash over us; and to weave it into greater strength and wisdom. What if we took the hardest moments of our lives and used them to find deeper love and understanding? What if we knew that even when a single part of our existence is in turmoil; there are still other parts of us that are holding fast, grounded, and ready to nourish us when we need it?
(c) Lauren Snyder 2024 All Rights Reserved
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