Bottoms up Bees!

There are people on this planet who are always prepared for every eventuality. They have wrapped bottles and chocolates under their Christmas tree waiting for unexpected guests and a drawer filled with every conceivable type of card ready to commemorate any event requiring stationery. Sadly I am not one of these people. The sight of a bottle under the tree has me reaching for the corkscrew and I seem incapable of leaving a shop with chocolates still in their wrappers, since shopping is one of the most snack-inducing chores on my long festive to-do list. As for cards, if I write one, I rarely have a stamp, so my good wishes sit forlornly on the postage pile for months on end.

Happily, pollinating insects do not require celebratory stationery and their chosen source of refreshment is not top of my snack chart (although I am unable to resist nibbling Hemerocallis flowers which is a bit embarrassing on garden visits). Since there are plenty of plants which aren't Hemerocallis, I am in with a very solid chance of being prepared for pollinating visitors; and bulbs are a massive help when it comes to having refreshments ready for any early arrivals.

Iris reticulata

Top of the earlies at Le Grys Farm has to be Crocus tommasinianus. Last year I planted a little crocus lawn and on a sunny day in February, I sat on a bench and watched bees tipsily plunging head first into the blooms. Bottoms up my dear friends. 

This year I will be planting more Crocus tommasinianus and they will all be sited close to benches to entice me to sit down and enjoy offering the bees this little hospitality. 

Another flower which saw bee action earlier this year was Tulipa clusiana 'Peppermint Stick'. The outside of its petals are rose-red, edged in white and they open to reveal glorious pure white inner petals. The flowers last very well and it is a joy to have them in the garden, so I will certainly be adding more to the borders this autumn.

Iris reticulata is a late winter bulb which I wouldn’t wish to be without. Two streams of them flank the path to the old farmhouse and although the foliage seems to elongate forever after flowering, they are planted among Geranium which quickly grow up and disguise the dying leaves. In summer, Iris x hollandica punch through the Geranium plants. If you have never sat and sipped coffee while watching bees disappearing into these beautiful flowers, you need to get a batch of bulbs and grab a mug. It is one of life’s simpler pleasures and one which is truly worth experiencing. 

Of course, there are plenty of wonderful pollinator-friendly plants available in summer and one I love to see in the garden is Allium. Now is the time to plant the bulbs, not least because buying the plants in spring or early summer will cost a great deal more than a bag of bulbs.

I am always interested to hear about which plants are popular with bees on other gardeners' plots. It can present a garden-based shopping opportunity which is up there with bulb planting as one of my favourite gardening tasks. It certainly makes a very welcome break from the boredom of digging out the clay pan from hell. This seemingly typical clay pan has now mysteriously metamorphosed into the 6" deep concrete slab of a former farm building. Consequently, I am adapting to this alarming discovery by metamorphosing into Popeye. It's not quite the look I was hoping for.

Miss Willmott's Ghost and The Sage

Miss Ellen Willmott, a nineteenth-century plantswoman, is reputed to have surreptitiously scattered the seeds of her favourite plant when visiting gardens, which is apparently why the striking silver thistle, Eryngium giganteum, is known as Miss Willmott’s Ghost. I am not suggesting that we seed bomb one another's plots like a posse of twenty-first century Miss Wilmotts, but this has got me wondering what we would like to see more of in 2013.

This is my hauntingly beautiful ghost,
not Miss Wilmott's.

Were I to go Miss Willmotting, I would float gracefully around gardens (an act requiring a body double, as I tend towards the frenetic) in an outfit accessorised with a wide-brimmed sun hat, watering can and an ornate dibber. I would remove my hat, under which were my rooted cuttings, pop a plant into the soil with the aid of my dibber and water said plant before floating off for a cup of tea. Clearly this would never happen in reality as I have a habit of mislaying garden tools (ornate or otherwise), losing hats and preferring coffee. 

My personal ghost would be bog sage; a plant which does not require a bog. Salvia uliginosa (bog sage) is at home in wet or dry conditions, but it does love full sun. I have seen it thrive in clay soil, where the borders are under water for part of the winter yet baked hard in summer, so it is certainly one to think about if you feel thwarted by this tricky combination.

Sadly, too many people have lost so much in recent floods and those who love their gardens may be looking to replace plants as quickly and cheaply as possible. Salvia uliginosa puts on annual growth fast and does not cost the earth. I suspect that it might be invasive on wetlands somewhere in the world, but I have grown it for nearly a decade in the UK and although it walks a little within the border, it doesn't rampage and if I were the kind of person for whom this was a problem, I would still grow it, only in a pot sunk into the soil. 

The one above came home hanging from the handle of my child's pram. I swear it wasn't that big at the time, but this plant is capable of growing up to 2 metres high. If you have the space, bounce a few clumps of it through your garden to give structure and height. Surprisingly, despite its size, I have yet to feel the urge to stake Salvia uliginosa as it holds its shape well once it is established. 

I never cut back the stems in winter because they ripen to a deep burgundy-brown and offer structure in those dark months. I like to think that they also offer protection as Salvia uliginosa is considered to be half hardy, although I have yet to lose one. Come spring, when the border is full of fresh green foliage and exuberant flowers, I cut the brown stems down to ground level and before long those fragrant green sage leaves emerge.

A reminder of spring... fresh foliage,
flower buds and a path in need of weeding. 

Of course it is the flower colour which stops passers-by in their tracks; and the bright electric blue flowers last for weeks from late summer. For me though, much as I love the flowers and the burgundy stems and the way the plant moves in the breeze, the very best thing about Salvia uliginosa - the reason why I would like to see more of it in people's gardens and why I am risking your wrath by suggesting it for my personal Miss Willmott choice - is that bees and hoverflies love it. On a summer’s day this plant is abuzz with them. Unbeatable!