Winter is when we look at the garden and think about what to add. A few more dahlias here, another row there, one more plant in the place that still looks open. On paper, it always seems reasonable to take a little space from the path and give it to the flowers.
By August, that bargain may not feel worth it.
If you’ve ever stood in your garden in high summer with a bucket in hand—trying to reach a bloom without bending a neighboring plant out of the way—you already understand what’s happening. The frustration isn’t the plants. It’s the fact that the paths you thought you had are no longer there. The walking space narrows, foliage meets in the middle, and what was once an easy pass becomes a careful squeeze.
Why Paths Matter Beyond Walking
Paths one simple predictor of how often you’ll engage with the garden. When a path is uncluttered and easy, you step in without thinking—you cut a few stems, deadhead as you pass, notice a leaning plant before it flops, catch a problem while it’s still small. The garden gets tended in small, frequent gestures, which is exactly what dahlias reward.
When access feels tight, tangled, or inconvenient, the opposite happens. You hesitate. You postpone. You may go in only when you have to, not when you simply could. And with dahlias, those skipped visits show up quickly: cutting becomes less regular, deadheading slips, and the season shifts from a steady, well-managed season of bloom to waves and lulls.
What Happens When Paths Disappear
When paths disappear, the consequence is physical as much as it is practical: we start walking in the beds because there is nowhere else to put our feet. Over the course of a summer, that repeated traffic compacts soil over the root zone, reducing air space and changing drainage. Roots struggle. Growth becomes uneven.
And once you’re stepping through plants to reach plants, even a quick cut starts to feel like a project—which is often how a garden becomes harder to tend precisely when it’s at its most full.
Dimensions That Actually Work
This is why seasoned growers tend to be surprisingly specific about path dimensions. Not because they are precious, but because they have learned what works. A path of about two feet is generally enough to pass through without brushing every stem and to turn comfortably with a bucket. If you want to move a wheelbarrow, you’ll want closer to thirty inches.
And if you keep planting areas to a width you can reach from both sides—at the farm we keep beds to about four feet—you can cut and tend without stepping into the planting zone at all, which protects the soil and makes the work easier all season. Four feet for a walkway also happens to be wide enough for two people to go side by side if you want the garden to feel like a place to move through slowly, not a place you rush past.
A Winter Planning Shift That Helps Immediately
None of this requires starting from scratch. Most people aren’t redesigning their garden; they’re simply adding new dahlias to what already exists. But winter is the moment to pause before filling every opening. Sometimes the most useful choice you make isn’t which plant to add—it’s deciding where the walking space needs to remain open so you can actually tend what you’ve planted.
What looks like “lost planting space” on paper often becomes the space that gives you the season back.
Where the Garden Actually Happens
A path is where the work of the garden happens—it’s where you stand to cut, where you pause long enough to notice what needs doing, and where the garden becomes something you can truly tend rather than simply admire from the edge.
This information makes life so much easier! Thank you
This was such great information, and the way you wrote it, I could almost envision walking through your garden beds. Very nicely written. Thank you!