The Siberian Squill and the Cellophane Bee

Posted on April 22, 2017 by Janet

My front garden in Toronto is filled at the moment with hundreds of native cellophane bees, Colletes inaequalis. Sometimes called Eastern plasterer bees or polyester bees (and grouped generally with mining bees), they get their common name for the viscous, waterproof, transparent substance (sometimes compared to plastic wrap) that the females secrete to line and seal the brood cells they burrow in the ground. Their species name means “unequal”, and refers to the unequal segments of the right and left antennae. They’re one of the earliest bees to emerge in spring and can often be seen on April-flowering native red maples (Acer rubrum), like the one below in Toronto’s Mount Pleasant Cemetery…..

…. and pussy willows (Salix discolor), also in the cemetery.

My front garden is also filled with the little blue flowers of the non-native, spring-flowering bulb Siberian squill, Scilla siberica.

They’ve been slowly spreading there for at least 20 years, probably much longer, since we’ve been in our house for 33 years and it was soon after I saw the “blue lawns” in our neighbourhood that I decided to plant a few of the little bulbs. Needless to say, the scilla likes our slightly alkaline clay. Quite a lot! Though considered invasive, they are not listed as a serous threat, like Japanese knotweed and dog-strangling vine, since they occupy fairly specific niches and disappear after the foliage ripens. In my garden, they emerge with the crocuses…..

….. and stay in bloom for the fragrant hyacinths…

….. and windflowers (Anemone blanda)….

And Corydalis solida ‘George Baker’

There are thousands enough that my little granddaughter is free to pick handfuls of them.

Later, my front garden will be filled with daffodils, tulips and the bottlebrush flowers of Fothergilla gardenii.….

….and later still, sun-loving North American (not necessarily Ontario) prairie natives like echinacea, rudbeckia, liatris, vernonia and aster, chosen for their appeal to native pollinators.

I also grow many non-native plants like meadow sage (Salvia nemorosa), catmint (Nepeta racemosa ‘Walker’s Low’), Russian sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia) and Knautia macedonica and sedums, also chosen for their appeal to native pollinators….

…. like the little native metallic sweat bee (Agapostemon virescens), here on knautia….

….and ‘Mainacht’ meadow sage…

….and native bumble bees of all kinds, here on knautia….

….and catmint….
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….. and later in the season on echinacea…

In late summer and autumn, there’s a mix of non-native sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ and native obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana).

Monarch butterflies congregating in Toronto before the long flight over Lake Ontario as they migrate to Mexico adore the sedums (as do bumble bees and honey bees)…..

….. and native carpenter bees (Xylocopa virginica) do some clever nectar-robbing to get at the nectar in the corollas of the obedient plant.

The final chapter in my front garden consists of native goldenrod and rich purple New England aster, below, both valuable to native pollinators.

***************

But back to my garden in April. The little blue Siberian squill is why the native bees are there. Cellophane bees are a vernal species. As noted in this excellent bee brochure from the City of Toronto , “As soon as the weather becomes warm enough in late March or April, Common Eastern Plasterer Bees start emerging from their overwintering burrows in the ground. Males cluster around virgin females that are digging upwards to reach the soil surface and the mayhem that ensues can sometimes result in some bees being killed in the crush. Once they have mated, the female excavates a burrow in the ground, showing a preference for nesting in patches of bare, or sparsely vegetated, soil.”

Colletes inaequalis is a polylectic species, or a polylege, meaning it gathers pollen from a variety of native and non-native plants from early spring to mid-summer, when their life cycle ends. According to observers, the plants it has been observed using include Aesculus (buckeye, horsechestnut), Amelanchier (serviceberry), Anemone, Anemonella, Arctostaphylus, Aronia (chokeberry), Cercis (redbud), Claytonia, Crataegus (hawthorn), Dentaria, Dirca, Erythronium, Hepatica, Prunus (cherry), Ptelea, Pyrus (pear), Rhamnus (buckthorn), Rhus (sumac), Ribes (gooseberry, currant), Rubus (blackberry, raspberry), Salix (willow), Spiraea, Staphylea, Stellaria, Taraxacum (dandelion), Vaccinium (blueberry, huckleberry, myrtleberry, cranberry), Viburnum and Zizia. And in my garden, the unequal cellophane bee is the principal visitor to my thousands of non-native Siberian squill.

My abundant blue squill also attracts other native spring bees, including the lovely Andrena dunningi, below.

I also have a large fragrant viburnum (V. farreri) in my back garden. Native to northern China, it bursts into bloom with the first warmth of spring.

As soon as the scented flowers open, my viburnum is literally buzzing with native bees and butterflies, including mourning cloaks (Nymphalis antiopis) that have overwintered nearby…..

…and the odd overwintering red admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta).

The existential problem (not for me, but for some rigid native plant proponents) is that the alien floral nectar and pollen is making life possible for these native bees. In fact, since nobody else on my street has much in bloom at the moment and there are precious few red maples or native spring wildflowers in bloom, I am 99% sure that these bees nest in my own garden in order to attack this non-native nectar feast in early spring, as they emerge from their overwintering places.

I live in a city – in fact, the fourth largest city in North America – in which sun-loving plant species are largely all native elsewhere. As the Toronto bee brochure cited above notes: “Much of the native landscape in our region was originally forested, with the Carolinian and Mixed Forest Zones being the ecological land classifications for the area. Forests are generally not good habitats for bees, although bumble bee queens and a few early spring bees can be found foraging on the early spring flowers that are in bloom before bud burst.” My ‘native’ forest (including the maples, birches and willows on which my spring bees might have foraged) was mostly cleared, beginning more than 200 years ago, leaving a grid of streets and roads and buildings and an urban forest very much of the “planned” variety (boulevards and parks), save for our wonderful and extensive natural ravines. Though there would have been patches of meadow and bits of relict, sunny black oak savannah near High Park, most Toronto-specific native wildflowers would have been shade-lovers.

As the city’s bee brochure makes clear: “In comparison to native forests, an urban environment with patches of parkland, ravine, and large numbers of urban gardens, provides an abundance of floral and nest-site resources for bees. An evergreen forest may have no bees at all, a deciduous forest very few. But within our city there may be over 300 bee species and the average backyard garden will likely contain over 50 species, with some nesting and foraging there, and others visiting for pollen and nectar while nesting on a neighbour’s property.”

Pollination ecology is a complicated subject. Douglas Tallamy, in his excellent Bringing Nature Home: How You can Sustain Wildlife with Native Plants, writes that: “There are subtle chemical differences in nectar among plant species, but by and large, nectar from alien plants is the same as nectar from native plants.” That seems fairly clear and, extrapolating to the physical needs of Homo sapiens, carbohydrates are carbohydrates; it makes little difference whether they come from local maple syrup or granulated sugar or fructose, we will be hypoglycemic if we don’t ingest sufficient amounts. (Interestingly, “deep ecologists” separate humans from the rest of the evolved animal world – and assign us the shame of interacting in any way that benefits us above other creatures. But that’s a big and thorny subject for another day.) Tallamy goes on to say: “That said, there is growing evidence that our native bees, the andrenids, halictids, colletids, anthophorids, and megachilids, prefer native flowers to alien flowers.” He then cites the thesis findings of U of Delaware student Nicole Cerqueira, who compared visits of native bees to native and alien plants and found evidence that they showed a statistical preference for native plants in 31 instances. I’m not sure my garden is comparable, given what I’ve said about Toronto and its “native” plants, but I would be interested in seeing if quantity, i.e. massed plantings of bee-friendly alien plants, might play a spoiler role in what native bees like andrenids and colletids prefer……

In the meantime, do garden organically and do plant lots of plants for pollinators from spring to fall.

Lilies in Meadows

Posted on October 11, 2016 by Janet

I spent an hour on Thanksgiving weekend planting a dozen Orienpet lily bulbs in my meadow gardens at the cottage on Lake Muskoka. A deservedly popular group resulting from complex hybridizing of Oriental and Trumpet lilies, they came from the Lily Nook in Neepawa, Manitoba, which has been in the lily-breeding business for more than 30 years. The Lily Nook also sells popular lilies outside their own registry, offering 150 varieties through their catalogue. I’ve always been impressed with their service and the quality of their bulbs.

When I say I planted the bulbs in “meadow gardens”, I mean either one of two small fields on either side of the cottage, below, but also in….

..garden beds that I originally intended to keep somewhat tame, which have now been invaded by their wild meadow brethren. This is ‘Conca d’Or’ – my favourite Orienpet, with blue Russian sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia) and ‘Gold Plate’ yarrow (Achillea filipenulina)….

Planting lilies is easy, and much like planting spring bulbs such as tulips or daffodils. The difference is that lilies can be planted in either fall or spring, unlike spring-flowering bulbs which must be planted in autumn. Fall planting works well when autumns are long and relatively mild, allowing the bulbs to root nicely before freeze-up. In my case, there is no beautiful, rich soil to work; it is truly a mess of wild grass and wildflower or perennial roots and granite bed rock. I shifted my spade around to find 10-12 inches of clear soil, then dug out any roots I could and sifted the soil a little with my hands. I had a very small amount of seed-starting mix that I added to the hole (I would recommend a better soil, if you have it, to give a good start), then plunked the fat, scaled lily bulb on top. Lilies prefer rich, free-draining but reasonably moist soil.

I gathered a pail of pine needles, and after backfilling the hole with the bulb, I mulched the soil with the needles and watered everything well. Experts recommend mulching Orienpets in cold regions, but apart from the pine needles, I’ve relied on our generally guaranteed deep snow cover to get them through winter. The pine needle mulch at least guarantees a short time for the bulb to emerge in spring without encroachment by other plants.

And when I say encroachment, in meadow gardening it’s a given that life is cheek-to-jowl and plants must be able to survive in those conditions. Here’s the Asiatic lily ‘Pearl Justien’ with wild sweet pea (Lathyrus latifolius).

This year, I bought 3 bulbs each of pink ‘Tabledance’ (who makes these names up?) and ‘Esta Bonita’, three of ‘Northern Delight’ (soft melon orange) and three more of my fave: pale-yellow ‘Conca d’Or’. The Lily Nook always adds a free bonus bulb, usually an Asiatic. While they are lovely in my city garden, they don’t seem to take as well to the meadows at the lake. The one below faded away after a few years of rough living.

Orienpets have inherited the spicy fragrance of their pink and white Oriental parents and the swoony scent of the orange and yellow Trumpets. So I’m careful to site my lilies where their exquisite perfume can be enjoyed up close. That means near a sitting area, as with ‘Conca d’Or’, below…

…. or along a grassy path where walkers can enjoy inhaling. That’s peachy ‘Visa-Versa’ at the front, and the orange Asiatic ‘Pearl Justien’ in the rear.

…. or beside the stairs to the dock….

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They are not immune to disease (especially after a rainy spring, when the stems and leaves can develop a blight) and certain little critters love them, especially red lily beetle (I don’t have many of these) and grasshoppers, like the ones below noshing on ‘Robina’ (I have thousands of these!)

This one reminded me of Dr. Strangelove riding the bomb.

Deer will take the odd chomp off the top – and that, of course means the end of the flower. But when they are happy(ish), they are my guilty pleasure – since everything else in my meadows is grown for wildlife and pollinator attraction. The liies are just for me, a little hit of luscious intermingled with the do-gooders. Let them keep company with the red ‘Lucifer’ crocosmia as it brings in the hummingbirds to sup….

…. and with the orange butterfly milkweed, as it attracts bumble bees and monarch butterflies.

Let them hang out with the bee-friendly veronica (V. spicata ‘Darwin’s Blue’)….

…. and the pink wild beebalm (Monarda fistulosa) with its hordes of bumble bees.

Here’s a tiny video of ‘Conca d’Or’, (above) playing partner to beebalm.

Yes, my meadows are big enough for a few pinup gals, like ‘Visa-Versa’, below.

And the garden beds look all the lovelier for a ravishing beauty among the humble blackeyed susans.

My Cups Runneth Over (With Bees)….

Posted on July 31, 2016 by Janet

(Hmmm. I just re-read my title and almost changed it, but decided not to. Snicker away – I’m going with “cups”.)

My second yellow-gold blog for July (the first was on companion plants for blackeyed susans) honours another composite prairie perennial that has pride of place in my meadows at Lake Muskoka. Cup plant or Indian cup (Silphium perfoliatum) gets both its common name and Latin specific epithet from the way the leaves encircle the stem, thus making the stem appear to pierce the foliage – i.e. a ‘perfoliate’ habit.

This clasping leaf arrangement creates a kind of ‘cup’ in which water can collect after rains, supposedly providing drinking water for birds and insects. Alas, insects are often found floating in the water, with some experts suggesting that it may actually act as a deterrent against insect pests that might climb up the stem.

While it is a fabulous native, indigenous to moist woods and prairies in much of mid and east North America, including my province Ontario, its tendency to colonize makes it problematic. In fact, though it is classified as “threatened and endangered”in Michigan, it is “potentially invasive” and banned for sale in Connecticut. I received my fleshy roots from the compost bins of Toronto’s beautiful Spadina House gardens, and the gardeners gave me fair warning that it was invasive, and hard to dig up to control its spread. So I don’t; I merely enjoy it and give thanks for it when the bumble bees are nectaring on the big yellow flowers.

Here are bumble bees in action, along with a surprise visitor for whom those itty-bitty leaf pools are no deterrent, when tasty cup plant seedheads are the rewards for ascending that thick stem.

Honey bees love cup plant as well. There are no apiaries near my cottage on Lake Muskoka, but I photographed this one in the meadows at Miriam Goldberger’s Wildflower Farm an hour so south.

Butterflies like the monarch enjoy cup plant, too.

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I grow cup plants near my stairs so I can photograph the pollinators at eye level.

But they’re in my meadows as well. Though they prefer adqequate moisture in the soil, they are surprisingly drought-tolerant (as they’ve had to be this hot, dry summer), but will develop yellow leaves and stunted flowers in time. Here’s a colony below my bedroom window amidst sweet blackeyed susans (Rudbeckia subtomentosa) still to come into flower.

They make good companions to gray-headed coneflowers (Ratibida pinnata), which bloom at the same time.

They are easily the tallest perennials I grow. Last summer (a season of good rains), I lay down the loftiest stems so I could do a measurement. Yes, 9 feet.

I leave you with a little narrated tour…..

….and a cottage bouquet showing cup plant flowers in the bottom tier, surrounded by summer flowers like ratibida, perovskia, liatris and goldenrod. Yellow/gold for July 2016, over and out.

Remember Forget-Me-Nots!

Posted on April 28, 2016 by Janet

Okay, corny headline. But I do want to use this blog – the second of my “blue for April” blogs – to ‘remember’ how much I adore the effect of forget-me-nots in the spring garden. Sometimes, on a lovely May morning, as I’m looking at the robins bathing in the lily pond in my back garden, I’ll squint a little and imagine what it would look like without that lacy froth of light blue under the ‘Red Jade’ crabapple tree. Dirt, that’s what it would look like, and the emerging green of perennials, of course. But not nearly as enchanting as the soft blue cloud that floats around the lily pond.

Forget-me-not – Myosotis sylvatica. The botanical name comes from the classic Greek word for the genus, muosōtis, from mus- ‘mouse’ +ous, ōt- ‘ear’. And the specific epithet sylvatica means “of the forest” or woodland. So, mouse-eared plant of the woodland. As for the common name, it comes from the German: Vergiss-mein-nicht (appropriate, because it’s a European plant) I can’t think of another plant that gives so much and asks so little. Reasonable soil with a little moisture, that’s it. And when I say “soil”, I’m measuring in square inches, because that’s the way forget-me-nots plant themselves. Biennial, they only need a tiny patch of ground to germinate those prolific seeds in late spring, content to grow their roots and develop a small rosette of leaves in the first summer.

Then next spring, up they pop and away they go, flowering for weeks on end, their sky-blue blossoms a tonic with all the yellow spring lavishes around – like basket-of-gold (Aurinia saxatilis), seen here.

But speaking of yellow, forget-me-nots exhibit an interesting evolutionary trait developed in order to attract pollinators. But first, some basic botany: they are protogynous, meaning the flowers initially have a female phase, then a male phase. The nectaries are located below the ovary, which is at the base of the corolla. Around the opening to the corolla is a fleshy yellow ring which is a nectar guide. Once the bee has spotted that yellow ring and zeroed in on the nectaries and/or pollen (if in the male stage), the plant has ensured its succession. (Oh, how they ensure their succession, with copious seeds.) Even cooler, once the flower has been pollinated, the yellow ring fades to a creamy brown – a signal to the bees that there is no longer any nectar. It should be noted that honey bees will not come to your garden for just a few forget-me-nots; they need loads of them to make it worth the while of the ‘scout’ honey bee whose role in the colony is to find sizable populations of nectar- and pollen-rich plants and then do the ‘waggle dance’ to instruct the forager bees on how to locate them. (For more blue plants for bees, have a look at this blog.)

Forget-me-nots offer up another sweet vignette in my pond garden: insinuating themselves innocently into my Japanese hakone grass (Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’).

For many years, my front garden in May was a candy floss confection of the small-flowered pink rhododendrons ‘Olga Mezitt’ and ‘Aglo’ with loads of pink tulips and blue grape hyacinths. But it was the forget-me-nots that were the frilly icing on the cake.

And much as I loathe their wanton (wandering?) ways, the lily-of-the-valley, below, do look rather fetching in the embrace of forget-me-nots. Still, sweet-scented though it is, little Convallaria majalis has proven to be a tenacious invader of much of my garden, and, unlike forget-me-nots, cannot be uprooted easily.

When I visit Toronto’s spectacular Spadina House gardens in May, I am captivated by the billowing cloud of blue beneath the brilliant spring flowers in the borders surrounding the four-square potager. It brings all those colours together into a cohesive, beautiful picture.

Here they are with beautiful white bleeding hearts (Lamprocapnos spectabilis ‘Alba’), formerly Dicentra)….

…and a closer look at that lovely duo.

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Here are some more sweet Spadina House forget-me-not pairings. This is very early, with Arabis caucasica ‘Rosea’.

Then come the tulips, like pretty yellow Tulipa batalini ‘Bright Gem’….

…and these wonderful ‘Daydream’ tulips. That’s lungwort (Pulmonaria saccharata) at the right, rear.

One of the early hardy spurges, creeping Euphorbia myrsinites, looks quite fetching with a sprinkling of forget-me-nots.

And forget-me-nots flower for such a long time, they’re ready and waiting when the late-flowering poet’s narcissus, N. poeticus ‘Recurvus’ starts flowering at Spadina House.

I often travel to my old home province of British Columbia in spring, and when I stop in at Butchart Gardens in Victoria, it’s abundantly clear that nobody does forget-me-nots like them. Look at this lovely carpet under lily-flowered tulips.

Although I’m happy with the garden variety forget-me-not that’s been with me for years, there’s a seed strain with more vibrant blue colour called ‘Victoria Blue’. I suspect that’s what’s growing here at Butchart with orange wallflowers.

Forget-me-nots come in light pink and pure white, often occurring naturally in naturalized seeds. But you can also buy seed of those colours to have an effect like this with tulips, at Butchart Gardens.

Finally, a little duo from Victoria’s Horticulture Centre of the Pacific (I’ve blogged about HCP and their lovely Garry Oak woodland before). Isn’t this sweet? Bright-pink chives (Allium schoeneprasum), likely ‘Forescate’, with forget-me-nots. Easy-peasy for the herb garden.

Happy spring!

Planting a Hummingbird Menu

Posted on August 24, 2015 by Janet

One of our great summer joys at the cottage on Lake Muskoka is the closeup view we have of the ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) nectaring on flowers in the containers on our sundeck. Of the many hummingbirds in North America, the ruby-throated is the only species found east of the Great Plains.

Those wings may be small but they’re very powerful, beating 50 times per second and capable of flying from Ontario all the way south to Costa Rica and other tropical areas during winter migration.

I haven’t put up a hummingbird feeder at the cottage. I’m terrible at maintaining bird feeders and sugar water stations and don’t want the grief of pesky wasps invading the sweet stuff. But I also prefer them to feed on real flower nectar, (much safer than sugar water which can harbour bacteria and also contains valuable micronutrients), and always buy flowering annuals that I know from past experience they’ll enjoy. Over the years, a favourite has been agastache or hummingbird mint – not the purplish-blue anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) which is nonetheless a great bee plant, but the more tender species and hybrids of the southwestern species like Agastache rupestris, A. cana and A. mexicana. Since hybridization of these great plants has exploded in the past decade or so, they are becoming more available as annuals in colder parts of the northeast, thank goodness, since they rarely return when winters are tough.

Like all hummingbirds, the rubythroated’s long beak is perfectly suited to tubular flowers. And like all birds, whose vision is most acute in the red part of the light spectrum, it’s especially drawn to flowers in shades of red and orange, but will also seek out any nectar-rich flower that meets with its approval, especially in the early season when few flowers have emerged. I’ve seen them feeding on spring-blooming purple ‘PJM’ rhododendrons and yellow narcissus, among other plants.

Here are a few of my favourite choices for a hummingbird menu:

Agastache ‘Kudos’ series – As shown in my video, I grow both ‘Kudos Coral’ and ‘Kudos Mandarin’ from Terra Nova in my deck pots and they are both excellent nectar sources, but the coral cultivar seems a little more vigorous and floriferous, for some reason.

Salvia guaranitica ‘Black & Blue’ – Hummingbird sage is one of the most beautiful of the big salvias, with its azure-blue flowers and black stems and bracts. It will overwinter in milder areas (USDA Zone 7 and warmer), but it’s worth growing as an annual in cold regions for its ability to lure hummingbirds to its sweet nectar.

Salvia microphylla ‘Hot Lips’ – Another flowery video star, this lively little sage is really fun to grow and the hummingbirds love it.

Crocosmia ‘Lucifer’ – Montbretia – Hummingbirds adore the red flowers of this South African bulb, a hybrid introduction of Alan Bloom. My cottage on Lake Muskoka is USDA Zone 4, but reliable snow cover has so far created conditions that have allowed ‘Lucifer’ (USDA Zone 6b) to multiply and spread…..

…. much to the delight of the ruby-throated hummingbird below.

Here’s my little video of the hummingbird on Crocosmia ‘Lucifer’:

Tropaeolum majus – Nasturtium – Hummingbirds love nasturtiums, but they aren’t as satisfying in the bang-for-buck hummingbird potential as the smaller flowers of my previous two choices. Still, a nice old-fashioned flower (and a lovely salad garnish, since it’s edible).

Aquilegia canadensis – Eastern columbine – Since it flowers at the lake in late May and June, this one offers early nectar to returning hummingbirds.

Penstemon barbatus – Scarlet Bugler – Flowering in early summer and then sporadically later, I’ve heard this is one of the best penstemons for hummingbirds. Though I don’t have a lot of it and it’s down by the lake where I can’t keep my eye on it, I’m sure my hummers have found it.

Monarda didyma – Beebalm – Another hummingbird favourite. I can also attest to the popularity of wild beebalm, Monarda fistulosa, which I grow by the hundreds in my little meadows and have seen being visited by hummingbirds.

Hummingbird bush, Uruguayan Firecracker Plant (Dicliptera suberecta) – I went out of my way to source this plant in 2014, but didn’t have the right conditions (gritty and very well-drained soil) and managed to get only a few flowers by summer’s end. So I’m not sure my hummers ever found it, but it is reputed to be a hummingbird magnet.

Here are a few more ideas for your hummingbird grocery list:

Cigar Plant (Cuphea ignea) – A tender annual/tropical that’s good for hummingbirds and can usually be found in the specialty annuals section at better garden centres in early spring.
Firecracker Bush (Hamelia patens) – While you’re in the specialty annuals section, see if you can find this little tropical with the hummingbird-friendly red flowers.
Flowering Maple (Abutilon sp.) – Appears on lots of hummingbird lists, and a beautiful tropical shrub for a large container.
Fuchsia – Great for shady containers. And if you can find California fuchsia (Zauschneria californica), give them a whirl in your summer containers, too.
Cypress Vine, aka Hummingbird vine (Ipomoea quamoclit) – This is a wonderful annual vine with bright red flowers and a real hummingbird favourite. I might try this one next year in my planters.
Honeysuckle (Lonicera sp.) – Hummingbird favourites, but choose a native northeastern species like L. sempervirens or L. dioica, not an invasive Asian honeysuckle. ‘Major Wheeler’ is a good one to attract hummers.
Trumpet Creeper (Campsis radicans) – A big, heavy vine but oh-so-attractive to hummingbirds when those orange trumpets open in summer.
Indian Pink (Spigelia marilandica) – A spectacular-looking, early summer denizen of shady woodland places.
Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis) – A good, late-summer hummingbird lure for damp conditions.
Pink Turtlehead (Chelone lyonii) – A lovely late-summer perennial for moisture-retentive places.

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But plants don’t have to have red flowers to attract hummingbirds (as we saw above with Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Blue’.). I’ve seen them nectaring on daffodils in May and other yellow flowers, including biennial evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), below, a nice weedy plant in my meadows.

And I loved watching the ruby-throated below nectar on the tiny flowers of Nicotiana mutabilis. The main thing is to offer them that deep trumpet they love to explore with their long beaks.

Janet Davis Explores Colour

In the garden & the world

Category Archives: My Garden

The Siberian Squill and the Cellophane Bee

Lilies in Meadows

My Cups Runneth Over (With Bees)….

Remember Forget-Me-Nots!

Planting a Hummingbird Menu

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