By zhongqing1 
I tend to get an itch starting in late July to start fall cleanup. I’ll prune the spent raspberries and mow down the spent strawberry beds, and take down the sweet peas. By the time fall rolls around I’m spending a few hours a day doing yard work, taking down trellises, turning over beds, pruning perennials and tidying things for winter. Until last year, when I just … didn’t. Instead I adopted a dog, took her for a few weeks to sunny Arizona to sit by a pool, and generally ignored things. Spoiler: It turned out fine.
Your yard might surprise you in the spring
Now, to be sure, there are benefits to fall cleanup, which has many parts: pruning shrubs and trees, turning over beds by removing annuals or spent plants and planting new ones, composting, mulching, seed saving, planting spring-blooming bulbs, winterizing and general tidying. The effect of hitting every one of these tasks is that your yard will probably look tidier through fall and winter, and you’ll have a bloomier spring. However, I was shocked at how little difference not doing these things ended up making. By November, leaves hid my yard under a multi-colored blanket. Then the snow settled over it. People still walked by, complimenting the garden, and I found myself wondering about all the time I’d saved. What surprised me even more was that come spring, the garden seemed prepared to mostly take care of itself. Plants sprung up on their own from what I hadn’t pulled last year. A tomato bed I didn’t plant at all this year filled itself with better volunteers (plants that grow wherever the seeds from last year fell) than I’d have planted. The effects of my laissez-faire attitude were there, for sure—the garden was less orderly. The Douglas Asters had migrated out of their bed into the clover; tomatoes and yarrow grew everywhere in and out of raised beds; and my artichokes didn’t make it through winter without their normal blanket of deep mulch. But the result was something new and interesting after 13 years of doing the same.
More food for birds
Two years ago I planted a native berry island in my hellstrip, specifically for local wildlife and birds. Currants, osoberries, huckleberries, cranberries and other random berries replaced the grass that had never benefited me. Leaving the berries all winter became a fascinating study in local birding. I relocated my Haikubox—a smart recording device that identifies birdsong and reports it to you on your phone—near the islands, and was shocked by the variety of birds that made their way to my yard. By leaving my berries last year rather than gleaning the blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, boysenberry and blackberry bushes clean, those birds spread out across my yard, creating nests and finding roosts in boxes I left for them. It was the first winter I had a semi-successful winter crop—I usually lose them to slugs—and I think there’s a correlation between the birds and lack of slugs.
More resilient plants next year
It wasn’t only the berries—I left the tomatoes and eggplant and corn and peppers, and all the flowers, too. And though I did some cleanup come spring to clear for new plants, the seeds last fall’s plants had dropped were still in the soil, and they came up, making my garden more diversified than it had ever been. Those seeds had survived the winter, meaning the plants and fruit they bore were more resilient, too. They came up precisely when the ground was ready for them. In some cases, they came up in random places rather than where they were last year, dropped by bees and birds who’d been snacking. By spring, the plants that had been left in the soil were mostly composted on their own. I found myself thinking about the fact that I’d mostly been cleaning up the beds to make them look clean and orderly for my own satisfaction; the plants themselves had no need for this.
Leaving leaves protects beneficial insects
I stopped removing leaves a number of years ago—I even take the leaves from neighbors, who will helpfully dump bags of them in the middle of my yard. I use my blower to move them into my beds, where they act as mulch, and they break down over winter. They also provide beneficial insects places to nest all winter. I struggle in spring not to clear them, but you want to wait until the temperature is warm enough, which means when you plant your tomatoes, you can clear the leaves. I suspect you’ll find at that point, the leaves have dealt with themselves through composting. Since I began doing this, I’ve started to see a return of swallowtail butterflies and solitary bees and have had less aphids. In the last year, I’ve had two bat sightings—enough to put up a bat house—and regular sightings on my security cameras of an opossum. Both are considered to be excellent signs of garden health. My water features now have frogs in them.
My yard is healthier than ever because I’m doing less, and while my yard looks messier, that’s something I choose to be comfortable with. This year, I’m splitting the difference: taking down the trellises, doing all the pruning, but taking a light touch with my beds, and not worrying about leaves. You can pick and choose what aspects of fall cleanup you’ll undertake, but if you’re looking for an excuse to give yourself a little grace for not doing it all, here’s a good one: It may be healthier for you and your garden.
