I treated every pruning cut exactly the same way, and honestly? That is the fastest way to accidentally erase an entire season of flowers.

The truth is that deadheading, the Chelsea chop, and cutting back are three completely different techniques. They have entirely different goals, require different methods, and happen at completely different times of the year. If you understand how they work, you will stop losing blooms, stop dealing with floppy, overgrown plants, and start getting twice as much beauty out of every single perennial in your garden.

I’m out here in the garden right now in July, and I’m actually doing two of these techniques today while filming my latest video. But the third one? I completely missed the window this year.

If you’ve been treating all your pruning cuts the same—or if you missed your window too—here is your ultimate breakdown of what to cut, how to do it, and exactly when to grab your shears.

1. Deadheading: Continuous Summer Maintenance

• What it is: Removing faded, dead flowers from a plant.

• Why do it: 3 Separate reasons: 1 - A plant’s biological goal is to make seeds. When you remove a spent bloom, you stop the seed-making process. The plant redirects its energy into growing brand-new flower buds instead. 2- For plants that do not rebloom, like peonies, deadheading can force the plant to focus it’s energy on strengthening the root system. 3- For prolific self seeders, it can prevent the plant from self seeding and later taking over your entire garden.

• When to do it: Continuously from June until the first frost

• Best for: Reblooming plants like roses, coneflowers, salvia, and marigolds.

💡 Pro-Tip: The Rose “Five-Leaf” Rule

You cannot just snip a rose bloom off at the very top of the stem. You need to look down the stem for a five-leaflet node (a leaf branch with five distinct smaller leaves) that faces outward. Snip about 1/4 inch above that point. This signals the rose to push out a strong, sturdy new flowering branch.

2. The Chelsea Chop: The Early Summer Stunting Cut

• What it is: Cutting back the vegetative growth of specific perennials by one-third to one-half before they bloom.

• Why do it: While it delays flowering by a few weeks, it creates a shorter and bushier plant that won’t flop over, and drastically increases the total number of flower buds.

• When to do it: Late May to early June (traditionally around the time of the RHS Chelsea Flower Show).

• Best for: Late-summer bloomers like Sedum (Autumn Joy), Phlox, Asters, and Helenium.

Note: If you are reading this in July, you have missed the window for this year! Mark your calendar for next May so you don’t miss it again.

3. Perennial Cut Back: The Mid-Season Refresh

• What it is: Shearing the entire plant’s foliage and spent stems back significantly (often by half or down to the baseline foliage) after its initial bloom.

• Why do it: To shock the plant into growing a fresh, tidy mound of brand-new foliage and trigger a massive second flush of flowers later in the summer.

• When to do it: Mid-to-late summer (usually July), right after the first major wave of flowers begins to fade and look ragged.

• Best for: Salvia, catmint (Nepeta), perennial geraniums, and hardy geraniums.

Watch the Full Video Tutorial!

Want to see these three cuts in action? I also demonstrate exactly how to find that five-leaf eyelet on my roses and show you what happens when you miss your pruning windows.

👉 YouTube Video

Let’s chat in the comments: Which of these three techniques do you use the most in your garden? Did you manage to catch the Chelsea chop window this year, or are you waiting out the clock until autumn like me?

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I was a corporate executive. I loved the hustle, the electric energy of the streets, the constant hum of ambition, and the relentless drive to climb the next rung of the ladder. I wore that title like armor.

But over time, the environment changed. I found myself trapped in an incredibly toxic workspace, reporting to a boss who systematically chipped away at everything I was as a person. I tried to out-hustle the toxicity. I tried to compartmentalize the stress, keeping it locked away in briefcase files and office towers.

I thought I was keeping it from my family. I was wrong.

One morning, the armor shattered. For weeks, my young son had been crawling into our bed every night, restless and anxious. Finally, he shared his burden with me. He told me he had a dream that I lost my job, and then my husband and I died, leaving him completely alone in the world as an orphan.

Hearing those words from my little boy was like a physical blow. The stress, anxiety, and sleepless nights I thought I was managing hadn’t stayed at the office at all. They had leaked onto him.

In that exact moment, I knew. The corporate ladder wasn’t worth my son’s peace. I had to leave.

So I did.

After we finalized the legal documentation and signing a non-disclosure agreement, and of course, being reminded of my non compete, the ties were officially cut. The first few weeks were filled with relief. A literal weight off my should. But eventually, reality set in, and one morning, I found myself sitting alone at my kitchen table. The silence was deafening. No emails. No meetings. No corporate goals.

Everything I had used to define myself for two decades had crashed down around me. I looked in the mirror and realized a terrifying truth: I no longer knew who I was.

And then, right in the middle of that quiet grief, there was a loud knock at the front door.

I opened it to find a stranger standing on my porch. He didn’t know my corporate title. He didn’t know about the NDA, the toxic boss, or my son’s nightmares. He just stood there, looked at me, and pointed over his shoulder toward my yard.

“I don’t know what you do for a living,” the stranger said honestly, “but you need to find a way to do this full-time.”

He was pointing at my gardens.

For years, getting my hands in the dirt had been my secret therapy. The stranger urged me to start sharing pictures of my flowers and landscape designs online just to see where it might take me.

That knock on the door was the exact moment Gardens by Monika was born.

Rebuilding a life from the soil up is a massive transition. If I’m being completely honest, I am still figuring out exactly how to bridge the gap between where I am today and where I want to go next. But my ultimate destination is clear: I am building a future anchored in focus, creative control, and room to breathe.

Welcome to my diary. I am so incredibly grateful you are here to watch me grow.

Why I Am Sharing This (and What’s Next)

Transitioning a life from the desk to the dirt doesn’t happen overnight.

I’m launching this diary to document the reality of building Gardens by Monika from the ground up. This isn’t a glossy, curated lifestyle guide—it’s a real-time log of how to balance the realities of the professional world while aggressively funding and structuring a creative business.

What you will get as a subscriber:

• Weekly Diary Entries: Honest essays detailing the gritty realities, lessons, and milestones of managing a major career transition.

• The Creative Venture Blueprint: Real-time looks at how I am applying twenty years of executive experience to market, organize, and grow a brand-new gardening business.

• Community Access: Private discussion threads to connect with fellow professionals, career switchers, and creators redefining success on their own terms.

This first post is open to everyone. Future entries will be reserved for paid subscribers as I build and fund this next chapter.

If you want to follow the true story of how a corporate executive builds a passion into a reality, I would love to have you along for the ride.