It was bound to happen at some point. But so soon? I have only just begun my garden. (…twenty-eight years ago…)
I am hesitant to share this information around too much. I don’t want word to get out. (…to my Chief Financial Officer…)
It is sad to think that I may never get new plants again. It is sad to think of skipping spring plant sales. It is sad to think of walking right past the pretty plants at the garden center and none following me home.
In all that sadness, I decided I needed to sleep on my conundrum. To give the situation at hand a fresh new look in the morning, in the hopes that perhaps some space might magically open up overnight. (And not via a Vacancy sign popping up on a favorite plant, suddenly stricken overnight by disease or pests!)
And what should happen, but the following morning’s garden stroll revealed… a lightbulb moment…
It isn’t so much that I am “out of space,” rather my garden is full.
Full of winter bulb foliage that needs to die back naturally, in order to feed next year’s blooms.
Full of coneflowers and winecups that I have allowed to reseed and spread and sprawl and ramble about.
Full of daylily foliage, which have been loving our abundant spring rains and growing and doubling in size seemingly overnight.
My garden is equally full of rainlilies and passionvines, both super spreaders in my garden.
Yes. My garden is full.
But the bulb foliage will eventually be cut back and the bulbs will be dug and divided and replanted. The tall bearded irises also desperately need divided and thinned out.
And I really should thin the coneflowers and winecups, but both feed the bees and butterflies that visit my garden. The winecups will finish their bloom cycle soon enough and I will cut back their rambling vines and they will disappear beneath the ground until next spring. The coneflowers may well shrink in numbers, beat down by the summer sun, as is typical in years past.
I could stand to pull a few of passionvines that pop up here and there about the garden. But just as I think that, a gulf fritillary butterfly happens by and deposits her eggs and – right before my eyes – nature is complete, right here on my own little piece of Earth that I garden. (Shown in photograph below.)
Am I out of garden space? Perhaps. But for now, I prefer to think that my garden is just bursting out at the seams and jubilantly growing, lush from inches and inches of spring rains.
(Shown below: Coneflower growing outside its flower bed.)
All photographs taken today, May 8th, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.
If April showers bring May flowers, I should expect a flood of flowers this month.
I know I have said this before – and I likely will say it a thousand more times – but we gardeners are a fickle lot.
It’s too hot. Or too cold. Too wet. Or much too dry.
I am sure someone somewhere is gardening in utopia, but a garden utopia Texas is not!
Much of the state experienced a record setting freeze in February 2021, which was quickly followed by a summer of record setting heat and drought. The following two summers saw us again experiencing record high temperatures. Much – all? – of the state has been in a prolonged drought, with little rainfall even in what are normally our wetter months of the year. Are gardeners fickle about the weather or are we just more aware of the weather patterns and the seasons? Many times over this past winter, I heard gardeners lament the lack of rain and the possibility of another unseasonably warm and dry spring. I am not so sure, I would counter. We are due for a really wet spring, we haven’t had one in a decade or so. It’s time for the precipitation pendulum to swing from drought to flooding.
Truer words (aka: armchair weather forecasting) may have never before been spoken.
Rain, rain and more rain seems to be our current weather pattern. My new rain gauges, purchased two years ago, are finally getting a workout.
And the flowers.
Oh.My.
The Flowers! The garden on May 1st is truly a flood of flowers!
Giant Imperial Larkspur, shown above, is looking especially stately and regal. I allowed last year’s flowers to reseed at will and the results this year are outstanding.
While the rains have left a few of the early season daylily blossoms looking a bit ragged, this one is beautifully perfect. (Unknown red daylily, shown above.)
“As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer,” William Shakespeare
The sunny bright yellow blossoms of Coreopsis, shown below, have been especially welcoming given the many April days of overcast skies and rain-heavy clouds.
“May, more than any other month of the year, wants us to feel most alive,” Fennel Hudson
Most days start with a garden stroll, my rescue mutt Princess Leia running out ahead of me, ensuring that the garden is safe from squirrels and rabbits. While she is dashing rapidly from corner to corner, I – still clad in my pajamas and not quite awake – take a more leisurely pace, stopping to see small details, such as a spider’s handiwork on a poppy bud. (Shown below.)
While some gardeners gravitate toward a formal layout and design, I prefer an informal approach. A cottage garden? A wildflower garden? So many ways to approach gardening or describe one’s garden, no one way necessarily better than the other. To each their own. I take the laid back approach, often letting plants wander about. This Nigella Damascena (Love-in-a-Mist) flower, shown below, has popped up directly in a pathway, but what a lovely flower to have to stop and carefully step around.
Geum canadense (White Avens), shown below, is another plant that has wandered a bit about the garden. My original plant was purchased at the Lady Bird Johnson’s Wildflower Center’s spring plant sale many years ago. It now pops up here and there, never a nuisance, always beckoning me to stop and take a closer look at its tiny blossoms. I have not seen Geum canadense available at garden centers, though it may come up from time to time at nurseries that specialize in Texas natives.
We may not live in a garden utopia, but embracing native plants, as well as older heirloom plants, may just be the way to beat Mother Nature at her game. These are the plants that don’t just survive our extreme weather, but thrive and come back year after year. Calyptocarpus vialis (Horseherb), shown below, is another favorite of mine, as it will grow in both sun and shade and attracts smaller butterflies and pollinators.
“May is the month of expectation, the month of wishes, the month of hope,” Emily Bronte
This May, Keep calm and garden on and don’t forget to make a wish for perfect gardening weather this summer!
All photographs taken today, May 1st, 2024, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden.
“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” E. B. White
What better day than Earth Day to be on the lookout for the presence of wonder!
The delicate colorations on the underside of an onion chive blossom.
“We cannot protect something we do not love, we cannot love what we do not know, and we cannot know what we do not see. Or hear. Or sense.” ~ Richard Louv, The Nature Principle
The tissue thin petals of a poppy.
“I do not know if it is possible to love the planet or not, but I do know that it is possible to love the places we can see, touch, smell and experience.” David Orr, Earth in Mind
The purple veins on the hyacinth bean’s leaves.
“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” Vincent Van Gogh
The snow white of a daffodil, blooming so late in the season.
“To walk in nature is to witness a thousand miracles.” ~ Unknown
The cream colored accents on an amaryllis flower, as if a painter ran their brush across the red.
The contrast between today’s coreopsis blossom and tomorrow’s promise, the still tightly closed bud.
Nature is filled with so many tiny details if only we stopped long enough to take them in. This Earth Day, take time to step outside and take in the natural wonders that surround us.
All photographs taken April 22, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.
“How blest to sit in the fragrant shade, In the hush of a summer noon, To watch the bees at their happy task, And listen their drowsy tune…” ~ Elizabeth Anne Chase Akers Allen
Poets and gardeners alike adore the bee family. Many lines of poetry have been written about the humming and buzzing of bees, and every gardener worth their weight in honey knows the important role bees play in pollinating their gardens. Alas. Few poets write wistfully of flies and I have yet to meet a gardener that talks about the flies in their garden. Mark Twain perhaps said it best when he wrote that he would “rather have ten snakes in the house than one fly.” That could explain why I have yet to stumble across a field guide to the various flies of Texas.
This happens to be Pollinator Week, a time to say Thank You to all of our hardworking pollinators, and not just the bees that poets wax poetic about. Bees – and flies! – hummingbirds, butterflies, moths, wasps, bats and beetles are all responsible for pollinating our crops.
Instead of stepping on my usual soapbox and writing about the importance of pollinators and how much humans depend on them to pollinate our crops and how everyone can take small steps to benefit our pollinators… because we all know that is important, right?… Instead I thought I would share some of the pollinators spotted around my melodious garden this month of June and some of the flowers I have that lure in the pollinators, because honestly we should be celebrating them all month long.
A little pollinator action on a zucchini plant, shown in the photograph above, taken on June 21st.
It is estimated that one out of every three bites of food we eat requires pollination. Some foods require pollination to produce, such as zucchini. Other foods indirectly require pollination, such as meat and dairy. Livestock are primarily fed grains that require pollination, so to raise meat for consumption or to produce milk, pollinators are needed. Some foods, such as blueberries, are self-fertile and do not require pollination to produce a crop, but the plants will have higher yields with pollination.
A large patch of zinnias, shown below, is planted just behind the zucchini in the above photograph. Blue fortune agastache is a lovely contrast to the bold, bright colors of the zinnias. Both plants are attractive to bees and butterflies. Planting flowers around your vegetables is a great way to ensure plenty of pollination.
A little pollinator action on a tomatillo, shown below, photograph taken June 1st.
Cosmos and zinnia, shown in the photograph below, are planted directly in front of the tomatillos.
Moths are often overlooked as pollinators, but they are an equally important insect to have in the garden. In addition to pollinating plants, they are a great food source for amphibians and birds. In the photograph below, a moth rests for a spell on a tomatillo plant.
“I like to psychoanalyze the flies. They are very inquisitive, for instance – eager to investigate anything, taste anything, crawl over any object from a buzz-saw to a bald head. Flies are the most obstinate creatures in the universe for they never give up an undertaking. They don’t know how to desist.” ~ Dorothy Scarborough
You didn’t think I could mention flies without photographing one, did you? It actually took me quite a while to find a fly, shown in the photograph above, then there he was – sunning himself on the leaf of a pole bean.
Above, a gray hairstreak nectars on our native echinacea, aka coneflower. The native variety attracts a wide variety of pollinators.
Host plants, such as passionvine, shown below, are also important to pollinators. Gulf fritillary butterflies lay their eggs on passionvine. The eggs then hatch and the caterpillars feed on the passionvine.
“I am regretful that in my growing up years bugs were not regarded seriously as now. I have to get my mind adjusted to the notion of taking them as important members of society, since in my green days they were brushed aside or stepped on without qualm. I didn’t know that scholars gave their whole lives to studying worms, or work up a passionate fervor over spiders, or rhapsodize over bees.” ~ Dorothy Scarborough
I could rhapsodize all day and night over the pollinators in my garden, but will leave this here for now… It is unseasonably hot in Texas right now. While poets and gardeners can seek relief in air conditioned homes, wildlife cannot. (Except, perhaps, flies and mosquitoes.) Celebrate Pollinator Week Month and consider doing just one small thing to help our pollinators. Need ideas? (You didn’t really think I could pass a chance to step on my soapbox, did you?)
Nearly two hundred years ago Samuel Taylor Coleridge famously – or infamously? – wrote that summer set in “with its usual severity.” Much the same could be written today, on this summer solstice.
Texas has been in the national spotlight this past week for its record high heat index readings. This is where I would normally say, “Ah, but it’s a dry heat…” Alas. No. Unseasonably high humidity is pushing the “feels like” temperatures in to the stratosphere. “People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy,” Anton Chekov wrote in 1898. Oh, there is no missing that it is summer in Texas right now! Even the happiest of folks know 115 degrees when they feel it. Today I am grateful for air conditioning and deodorant and iced tea.
“Heat, Ma’am! It was so dreadful, that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones,” wrote Sydney Smith. Today I am also grateful for native plants and zinnias and daylilies and for the bees that dart about my garden as I sit here, sweltering in my bones.
Our native beautyberry won’t form its namesake beautiful berries for quite a while yet and their flowers are less than noteworthy and somewhat hidden under its large leaves, but that doesn’t stop the bees from partaking of its nectar. Callicarpa americana (shown above) grows three to six feet tall and wide and its berries, which grow in clusters along the branches, are an important food source for birds during the winter. In its natural habitat, beautyberry would be found growing in wet bottomlands or along waterways, but it is very adaptable to our irrigated gardens.
Echinacea, aka coneflower, was one of the first native plants in my garden 28 years ago and it remains one of my favorites. It attracts many beneficial insects and is extremely durable, even withstanding full sun, with scant supplemental watering, around my mailbox. I will periodically deadhead the spent flowers through the summer, which encourages another wave of blooms into late summer and early fall. I stop deadheading echinacea (shown above) in the fall and allow those seedheads to remain standing through the winter. It is reported that songbirds will feed on the seeds in the cold of winter, though I have never personally witnessed that in my garden. In the late winter or early spring, I will cut down any remaining coneflower stalks and scatter those seeds about the garden. In this manner, I have sown multiple stands of echinacea around my property.
Ratibida pinnata (above) is possibly one of my new favorite plants, in part because I love its common name. Grayheaded coneflower. As my “new and improved” gardens were coming together last year, I found myself drawn to BIG. And not just BIG, but – Tall plants. Big blooms. Bold botany. Plants that command your attention. Thus entered the grayheaded coneflower. At three to five feet tall, he fits the bill. Big. Yet oh, so, wispy. I also adore how delicate – and bright yellow – the petals are.
Zinnias and agastache (shown above) are a happy accidental combination. I direct sow zinnias in the garden, at first with thoughtful selection of seed and careful consideration to date and location of sowing, later with reckless abandon. A little here, a little too much there, I morph into the botanical version of Tinker Bell scattering pixie dust. But then. This happens. And I am reminded exactly why I take a lighthearted approach to gardening. Nothing by the rows. Nothing by the rules. Sometimes happenstance gardening is best. Such a beautiful way to enter summer, sitting on the patio with this amazing view.
The pollinators were out in force this morning, happily working away at pollinating my zucchini plants. (Shown above.) Last year, I fought squash vine borers something fierce. And by “something fierce,” I mean – I gave in and let them have the plants until I gave up and ripped them out and tossed them in the compost bin. This year, I sowed three to ten times more seeds than needed, of different varieties and at staggered dates. The squash vine borers? I think they were overwhelmed by their options and flew right on past. Which means zucchini is on the menu more than a handful of times each week. Zucchini bread. Zucchini lasagna. Zucchini and bean soup. Zucchini enchiladas. Zucchini muffins. In all honesty, some years are just better for one crop over another crop. Last year, I had great success with both Dragon’s Tongue and Helda beans. This year, neither one germinated well and the ones that did grow haven’t produced much. But the zucchini? This has been a very good year for the zucchini.
Keep Calm and Stay Cool. Plant something and watch it grow, what a wonderful way to honor the longest day of the year!
All photographs taken June 21st, 2023, in my zone 8a North Texas garden.
National Garden Week ended a few days ago and, as usual, I am the proverbial few days late and a few dollars short. I have very valid reasons, though. I was out gardening. And I was buying a few more plants, despite the ten day forecast having a few too many 100 degree days lined up. Alas. Just like Jack, I would trade the family’s cow for some magic bean seeds any day.
National Garden Week is an annual event, held the first full week of June. This year that happened to be June 4th through 10th. National Garden Clubs, a non-profit organization, holds this event as a way to promote the love of gardening. Even though I am late to this (garden) party, I simply cannot miss a chance to promote the love of gardening. And – who knows! – I may even go out and buy a new pair of plants to celebrate with! So, without further ado, here are just a few of the reasons why everyone should have, at the minimum, a small garden space.
1.) Gardening is a great way to stay physically active, which is so important in today’s world where we are often either glued to our office chairs, cell phones or automobiles.
Gardening can be an intense workout. Yes, you can go to the gym and do farmer’s carries with a couple of heavy metal plates, but you can also do that in the garden with two five-gallon buckets of homebrewed compost tea. Yes, you can go to the gym and do sled pushes, but have you ever walked three miles in one day, moving a pile of mulch one wheelbarrow load at a time? Many years ago, my family doctor told me that gardening wasn’t good exercise. I invited him over to my place to help me garden, as I had recently had a bulk delivery of compost and mulch. He didn’t take me up on the invite… Thankfully, most doctors now realize that gardening can be a great all-around workout. Not only does gardening burn more calories that channel surfing, it also helps build muscles and it challenges the gardener’s balance and flexibility.
That said, gardening doesn’t have to be an intense workout if one is physically not able to do the heavy lifting and hauling. There are ways to make gardening accessible for everyone, from tall raised beds that can accommodate wheelchairs and walkers to a small patio garden in containers or even growing microgreens on a sunny windowsill.
2.) Have you ever heard of the “runner’s high,” where runner’s get a rush of endorphins? At least one study has been conducted showing that gardeners get a boost in dopamine, a neurological “reward response,” when harvesting the fruits of their labor. When gardener’s say there is nothing quite like picking their own homegrown strawberries or tomatoes, that is the dopamine response, the pleasure, the state of bliss, from growing something yourself and eating it straight off the plant. Additionally, healthy soil is full of beneficial bacteria that releases serotonin in our brains, helping to alleviate depression and improve mental health. Gardening outside has the added benefit of increasing exposure to natural Vitamin D from the sunshine. Gardening also relieves stress (so long as you aren’t weeding something evil, like trumpet vine!) All together, there are many solid mental health benefits to gardening.
3.) Growing a fraction of your own food – or even just a few herbs – promotes healthier eating habits. When our tastebuds are more attuned to the pleasures of fresh dill sprinkled over a salad, a vine ripened cherry tomato, the sweetness of a blackberry still warm from the sun, we are less likely drawn to commercialized food products.
(Below photograph: My first blackberry of 2023!)
Having a selection of greens growing right outside the kitchen door makes healthy eating fun and enjoyable. Knowing what can be grown in each season in your region expands both the culinary palette and the nutritional benefits. Kale, for example, grows great in Texas from fall through winter and in to early spring, before “bolting,” or going to seed, in the heat. Longevity spinach, on the other hand, grew wonderfully in a container on my covered patio all of last summer, even when it reached 108 degrees. Okra, that southern staple, loves the Texas summer. Did you know the leaves are edible and make a great addition to summer salads?
(Photograph below: Romaine lettuce growing in a blue glazed container this past winter.)
4.) We – on a small scale – may not be able to stop the deforestation of the rainforests or prevent the glaciers from melting, but we can make a big difference right here in our own back yards. And our front yards, too! As I sit outside on this glorious June day, writing, I have been pausing from time to time to watch a swallowtail butterfly flutter from the coneflowers to the bee balm and back again, stopping to nectar here and there, knowing that I have done just a little something to make this world a bit better off. I have given wildlife a refuge from the fast pace of development and habitat destruction. I have built up my soils so that water seeps slowly down in to the earth instead of rushing off in to storm drains. I try to keep as much organic material on our property as possible, from composting kitchen scraps and toilet paper tubes to lining pathways with fallen tree branches to allowing leaves to decompose in place. Those are just some of the ways that gardening can benefit our planet. It is a loose, unscientific version of a symbiotic relationship… The garden feeds us zucchini. I compost the plant at the end of the season, where it breaks down and feeds the soil. That soil grows a beautiful stand of bee balm, which supplies the swallowtail butterfly with much needed nectar. Watching the swallowtail dance about my garden feeds my soul and I am drawn once again outside where I harvest yet more zucchini.
5.) Gardening can help build communities. Pausing the lawnmower to chat with the neighbor. Joining a garden club. (Which I highly recommend!) Giving away excess tomato plants when you started too many from seed. Passing along iris rhizomes to fellow gardeners. Saving flower seeds to give to friends and family near and far. Participating in a community garden. We live in such a technologically connected yet socially disconnected world these days. We need connection to survive and to thrive. Gardening can bridge that span. Gardening can also span the generations, from engaging toddlers that are fascinated by the caterpillars feasting on the passionvine to asking grandma about Victory Gardens during World War II. We can all benefit from the social aspects of gardening.
I hope I have encouraged you today to “dig in the dirt,” whether to plant up a small pot of herbs or break ground on a butterfly garden. Be sure to take a pause and appreciate the smallest parts of our natural world around us. It’s good for our mental well-being, after all.
(Photograph above: Bee on a zinnia – June 8, 2023)
“One of my chief joys in porch life is studying the butterflies. There are numbers of them about every day, of lovely pastel shades…” ~ Dorothy Scarborough, From a Southern Porch
Thursday dawned and found me once again wandering about the garden, where two very important observations were made. The first: If bird watchers can have bird blinds and deer hunters can have deer blinds, then I could have a butterfly blind. A place to sit and watch butterflies without disturbing their flutterings about my garden. Once upon a time, an older property in town had an old deer blind out at their fence line with a faded “for sale” sign nailed to one of its pink camouflage sides. Yes. Pink. Camouflage. Why my husband never bought this for my garden still baffles me. Wouldn’t it have made a fabulous butterfly blind? Yes, I think so, too.
The second observation that was made Thursday morning was that my camera outfit needs some additional zoom lenses.
A day later, still turning these observations over in my mind and examining them again and again, I think I can forego the butterfly blind as I would need multiple ones – one for each sunny area of our oddly shaped property – but additional camera lenses will be researched and added to my Christmas wish list.
I find that the older I get and the faster the world goes by, the more I just want to wander barefoot about my gardens, camera in hand, studying and recording the wildlife that seeks out refuge or food here. The earlier quote landed in my path at just the right time, for one of the chief joys of gardening is studying butterflies, the lovely pastel shades of the numerous butterflies that flutter overhead and stop to partake in the banquet of nectar spread out before them.
Today I share photographs of a tiger swallowtail butterfly sipping nectar on the native buttonbush in my garden on June 8th, 2023. Swallowtails are named for the long “tail” that extends beyond their hindwings, resembling the tail on the swallow, a type of bird.
There are more than 500 species of swallowtail butterflies, with around 25 species living in the United States.
This particular butterfly species lays its eggs on plants in the parsley family, as shown in the photograph below.
“I’ve watch’d you now a full half-hour, ….What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!…” ~ William Wordsworth, To a Butterfly
“…Here rest your wings when they are weary; Here lodge as in a sanctuary!…” ~ William Wordsworth, To a Butterfly
“STAY near me–do not take thy flight! A little longer stay in sight!” ~ William Wordsworth, To a Butterfly
“Idly afloat in the sunshine, butterflies look like flower-petals from some enchanted garden, possession motion and life, so that when they fall, instead of perishing, they take on a new, unearthly beauty that will not die. Or are they perchance the souls of flowers that faded yesterday, or the imperishable dreams we mortals cherish, too delicate to come true, but too lovely to be destroyed? ~Dorothy Scarborough, From a Southern Porch
All photographs taken during the morning hours of June 8th, 2023, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden. Zone 8a.
Tonight found me home alone, standing at the kitchen sink, peeling carrots in to the bowl I use for compostable materials. My go-to, easy meal for one: carrots, cauliflower and hummus. A thousand times a day I am at the kitchen sink, glancing out the large window at the garden space just beyond the pane. The 20+ year old fig tree is recovering nicely from the deep freeze of February 2021. Behind the fig tree, against the wooden fence, is an old wrought iron headboard, someday a trellis for the small raspberry that is planted at its base. To the side, an old metal chair. Morning glory vines would be precious scrambling up the chair, but so far that hasn’t happened. An old statue sits on the chair, my Suzie Sells Seashells by the Seashore statue. All together, it is a fabulous vintage vignette. How do I like my garden accessories? Old, old and old, thankyouverymuch. The chippy white is perfectly chippy white, in sharp contrast to the deep green of the fig leaves. And that spot of bright yellow? A stunning daylily, which today graced my garden with two perfectly placed blossoms. Which brings me back to peeling carrots and a glance out the window. I meant to do my work today. The words popped up from my mental file of memorized poems. I meant to make supper tonight. But a daylily called out to me. So what could I do but laugh and go? Carrots can wait another hour. The perfect lighting. The perfect blossoms. These moments don’t come around just any day. I am reminded that I need to live more in the present moment, enjoy these moments right before my eyes, not to let my mind rush ahead to tomorrow’s troubles or perceived troubles.
I Meant To Do My Work Today
I meant to do my work today – but a brown bird sang in the apple tree, and a butterfly flitted across the field, and all the leaves were calling me. And the winds went sighing over the land, tossing grasses to and fro, and a rainbow held out its shining hand – so what could I do but laugh and go? ~ by Richard Le Gallienne
My morning ritual consists of making a fresh glass of ice tea and taking a stroll about the garden. My rescued shelter mutt, Princess Leia, knows the routine. She pushes past me to get out the back door first, eager to make sure the garden is secure and no squirrels, bunnies or neighborhood cats are about. My evening garden strolls, however, are more often about chores. What needs watered? What area needs some attention, aka weeding? I must remember to toss aside chores and carrots and pick up my camera and simply… go outside and enjoy the garden. Enjoy this moment right here, right now. The evening lighting is enchanting, don’t you think?
No garden stroll is complete without stopping under the native buttonbush, currently in full bloom. The bees are still hard at work, but now in the evening hours they are joined by several moths. The bees pay me no attention, buzzing all about. The moths are more skittish, the slightest movement sends them fluttering off. But if one stays perfectly still, they return and land just inches away.
The garden by evening light is serene, soothing away the day’s troubles. I must remember this and set aside chores and carrots more often.
All photographs taken around 7:30 p.m. on June 7th, 2023, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden. Zone 8a.
Don’t you think it’s probable That beetles, bugs and bees Talk about a lot of things— You know, such things as these:
The kind of weather where they live In jungles tall with grass And earthquakes in their villages Whenever people pass!
Of course, we’ll never know if bugs Talk very much at all, Because our ears are far too big For talk that is so small. ~ Aileen Fisher
Pollinating: Many feet make light work.
A dear friend and fellow naturalist recently commented that seeing pollinators in the garden is akin to getting a gold star on a school project. How right she is.
If it’s morning, chances are I am in the garden, still in pajamas, feet bare so I can feel the earth, camera in hand. It is during these still sleepy moments when I am most amazed at the number of gold stars my humble little garden has amassed already this year. “Build it and they will come” applies to pollinator gardens as much as to cheesy baseball movies. I do not know if my pollinators – yes, “my” pollinators, as I am quite protective of them – speak with one another or how or even when they first discovered my garden, but it is apparent that the welcome mat has been unfurled, for the bees and the moths have arrived and are all feasting together this early June morning.
While bees are the most widely known of the pollinators, wasps, flies, beetles, moths and butterflies also lend a helping foot.
Pollinating: It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it.
More than 100 crops grown in the United States are dependent on insects for pollination, from the apple to the zucchini and every tomato, fig and cherry in between. By some estimates, 3/4 of our food supply requires pollination.
Pollinating: There’s a party goin’ on right here
National Pollinator Week is fast approaching – June 18th through the 25th – but we should be celebrating our pollinators every day of the year… A celebration to last throughout the year! (Cue some Kool and The Gang…) I often sing the praises of our native buttonbush, as I absolutely adore its oddly spherical orbs of pollen. It draws in pollinators from far and wide. This morning, though, I truly felt like I had stumbled in to the insect discotheque and there was a party goin’ on right here.
The buttonbush’s flowers are perfectly round, allowing more space for pollinators to meet and greet and perhaps talk about the jungle out there. Bee balm – monarda fistulosa, the native wild growing variety – is another plant with ample blossoms with room to share. The newer, hybridized versions often have smaller blossoms and less pollen. Something has to give when hybridizing plants and it is often the very thing that wildlife needs for survival. Whenever possible, planting the unadulterated, unhybridized, wild as nature intended varieties is best. That isn’t to say that I don’t have hybridized plants in my garden, for I very much do. But I strive to have as many pure native species as possible, whenever possible.
Pollen: It’s what’s for dinner. And breakfast. And Second Breakfast. And Lunch.
All photographs taken the morning of June 6, 2023, in Southern Denton County, Texas. Zone 8a. The round white flowers are buttonbush, a small growing tree or a large growing shrub, gardener’s choice of pruning. The soft lavender-pink blossoms are bee balm.
“Why was June made?—Can you guess? June was made for happiness! Even the trees Know this…
…June was made for happy things, Boats and flowers, stars and wings, Not for wind and stress, June was made for happiness!” Annette Wynne
The native buttonbush (shown in photograph above) has just started to burst into bloom. The pollinators danced above my head as I tried to capture a hint of the morning sun shining down upon my melodious garden.
“On this June day the buds in my garden are almost as enchanting as the open flowers. Things in bud bring, in the heat of a June noontide, the recollection of the loveliest days of the year – those days in May when all is suggested, nothing yet fulfilled.” Francis King
Ratibida pinnata, shown in photographs above and below, was purchased last spring from Almost Eden Plants. “Sleep, creep, leap” is often said about perennials, noting the three stages – or years – that it takes a plant to get settled in to its new home. “Sleep” it did last year. Poor thing. Shipped from Louisiana in a cardboard box, to land in Texas just as Mother Nature cranked up the thermostat. This year? I am not yet sure if it missed the memo and went straight to “Leap” or if I underestimated its ability. If this year is “Creep,” I may regret that I didn’t give it a quarter acre. It is absolutely stunning – and it hasn’t even bloomed yet! Every morning garden stroll takes me immediately to this plant, to see if it has bloomed yet. So far, it is suggested, nothing yet fulfilled. But soon. Patience is a virtue and one this gardener struggles with.
“In June, as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them.” Aldo Leopold
The zinnia bud (above) is one that simply cannot be ignored, for it is ringed with scallops, its petals held tightly in a circle. A day or so later, Behold, the buds have burst wide open. Such a glorious sight. Zinnia and cosmo seeds were mixed together, along with a bit of earthworm castings, and direct sown in the garden in mid-to-late March.
The pollinators are quite busy this first day of June. Below, a bee lands and collects pollen on a red cosmo, part of the riot of blooms in the photograph above.
Echinacea is commonly known as coneflower, after the high center cone that the flower sports when it is fully open. In full bloom, it is quite popular with the bees and butterflies. (Photograph below.)
This mid-stage, though. Isn’t it amazing? If fairies inhabit the garden, surely this must be their crown. (Photograph below.)
June’s Coming
“…Again from out the garden hives The exodus of frenzied bees; The humming cyclone onward drives, Or finds repose amid the trees…” John Burroughs
Buttonbush can be viewed in its native habitat along the marsh trails at the Fort Worth Nature Center and Refuge. In the wild, it is rather scrubby looking, not one that many think to plant in their own gardens. Alas. They would then miss the pleasure of standing under these orbs of pollen, watching the pollinators flutter about. Truly, buttonbush is the Dr. Seuss plant of the native genre. (Shown in photographs above and below.) I planted one in a low lying area of my garden about 25 years ago, after development next door created a bit of a swamp during rainy seasons. It does look a bit wild, but I am good with that. I pruned it into a tree shape by removing low growing branches early on and it happily complies.
In June
“A quiet hour beneath the trees; A little, whispering, lazy breeze; A perfect sky, Where, now and then, an idle cloud Strayed from its mates to wander by…” Matilda Hughes
So much is happening in my melodious garden this June.
Onions, planted in mid-winter, have been pulled to make way for another crop. Someday, hopefully, I will figure out how to grow an amazing crop of onions. I have memories of pulling softball sized onions from my aunt’s garden in Nebraska. Possibly my memory is off, due to my young age then and my older age now. Possibly it was that midwestern soil that earned its reputation as “The Breadbasket” of the nation. Possibly it was their abundant rainfall and our repeated droughts. Possibly I just don’t know yet what it takes to grow really large onions. All the same, they smell wonderful and will be much enjoyed.
The tomatillos have plenty of flowers and plenty of pollinating, so hopefully some homemade salsa verde is on the horizon. (Photograph above.)
One patch of parsley, a biennial herb, is nearing the end of its lifecycle and is setting flower. To have a continuous supply for the kitchen, it is best to plant a bit more parsley every year. It is also advisable to plant extra, in the happy event a swallowtail butterfly chooses to lay her eggs in your garden. This very hungry caterpillar, shown below, was spotted early this morning. As the saying goes – we can complain that rose bushes have thorns or we can rejoice that thorn bushes have roses – such is the way with caterpillars. We can complain that they are munching down on our herbs or we can rejoice that a butterfly fluttered in to our garden and found just the spot to lay her eggs. Fennel, dill and parsley are host plants for the swallowtail butterfly, so it is best to plan ahead and plant a bit extra so there is enough to share.
This has been an especially good year for the daylilies and I am thankful that I discovered the world of large, bold daylilies. Orange you glad, too? (Sorry. Bad pun.) Yes, orange flowers may just be my new favorite.
Happy June, my fellow gardeners.
“I most often find that happiness is just where I planted it.” Unknown
All photographs taken the morning of June 1, 2023, in southern Denton County, Texas. Zone 8a
