The Cosmos

It took me over a week to pull the Democrat primary fliers off of the borage. This is my confession. Had I made time for maintenance, I would have noticed that the cosmos seeds had finally grown into their own and that the borage has come down. The dayflower may not have taken over quite as much as the chartreuse potato vine, and the pots, yes the potted plants would be just a little less, shall we say, tan. Of course there is little I could have done with the advance of shade on the front yard and the plants there are keen on a solution, and even less I could have done about the spraying of herbicide under the yew tree, terminating my mayapples, lilies, monkshood, phlox, and yes, poke and smartweed. If I were a more attentive gardener, the lord may have not concocted such a browning scheme. Shall I say a few hail Marys now?

And the Solidago has fallen over, making it less appealing to me, as to the bumble bees that fly right on by.

The Russian Sage has bloomed for months; a proud, successful transplant of a well-dug-in, tap-rooted perennial. White Gaura is its friendly neighbor.

Appealing about this sage is its pubescent, lavender-colored calyces that outlast the pale blue flowers, extending the appearance of bloom far longer than the flowers alone.

The bumble bees also find it quite appealing.

But not, to these bees, as appealing as the large Heuchera, with it's small, white flowers nodding behind the autumn marooning Primrose leaves.

 Around it, a swarm of bumbles.

Yard Bugs

There are bugs everywhere, and especially where there are flowers. I could spend all day trying to capture these impatient sitters. Below a few captures.

Just seems like another carpenter bee going up the wall.

Until she turns around and lets you know she isn't all bluster -queen has a stinger and an all black head. She was out looking for a new spot to nest.

Everyone digs lady bugs, and some of us don't discriminate -we even dig ladybird beetles that hail from Asia. This one hides out under the lily leaf.

Crawling up the other side are the young ones and we celebrate them because they are voracious eaters of soft-bodied insects like Aphids.

Don't be afraid.

A Metallic Green Bee, or what I like to call Christmas ball bees, possibly Agapostemon virescens. You may have noticed the very same bee, here on a Tradescantia flower, flying over the Evening Primrose in the first photo.

Finding Time For The Garden

Now that the spring semester is over, we've been able to make some time for the garden -pulling weed sprouts, moving some volunteers to bare spots, and soaking up the good weather. The front garden has changed fast with the growth of the Zelkova trees. Our garden was a full sun planting but now it is ninety five percent shade. The lilies, the phlox, almost everything is stretching for what little sun passes between the trees. Since we are unsure of our future here it is hard to make the decision to replant. It is also interesting to watch plants on the move. The phlox have moved eighteen inches to the east, doing a number on the asters which I wouldn't have previously thought possible (the asters are pretty tough). The climbing 'New Dawn' can tolerate some shade, but it also will need to move by next season. 

The carpenter bees are spring active, and deliriously hug the bleeding hearts, poking holes in the tops to extract something sweet. Below the telltale marking of the male between the eyes.

These geraniums are in the new shady zone, and will need a new home by next season.

Johnson's Blue geranium is on the corner, in a spot that gets the most sun, maybe four to five hours at this time of the year.

The iris, too, gets some sun under the yew tree at the back of the side yard.

The mayapple, Podophyllum peltatum, with bloom under it's green umbrella, below the yew tree, surviving and moving ever so slowly to the corner's minute of sunlight.

Tradescantia, or spiderwort, blooms in the front yard's pocket of sun, but also made its way to the side yard, growing confidently between the paving slate.

And this hitchhiker, the star of Bethlehem, Ornithogalum umbellatum, finding a pocket of sun between the ever enlarging Dicentra eximia and another geranium in the side yard.

In The Yard

The mayapples are up, and spreading. We cheer for them.

The carpenter bees are bumbling into windows and walls.

The heuchera is giant.

The irises that returned are readying their flowers.

And lilies rocket.

Angelique triumphant.

And I wish I had one of these in the yard.

The Bees Of Autumn

It's as if they are out too late, getting drunk on nectar, then pass out at the tap. The next morning they move their limbs slowly, doing so until the sun activates their consciousness, puts the buzz back in their six-legged step.

Thievery

Given that I garden with such an active colony of carpenter bees, I've become an amateur witness to their behavior. They're fun to photograph, or try, because of their lumbering and hovering (and no stinging).

Carpenter bees are known to some as nectar robbers. When the flower has a deep corolla, they break the sides to "steal" the nectar, technically without trading their pollinating services. That's what makes them thieves, but then there's argument on this point.

April's May

Tradescantia, or Spiderwort, named so to honor the English naturalists John Tradescant the Elder and the Younger. Who knew? I prefer the moniker Spiderwort, most likely named because its leaves resemble the legs of spiders. I did not plant this Americas native* in our front yard garden, but there it is. A little weedy; meaning it pops up here or there. It does not like the heat of a summer sidewalk, preferring a partly sunny, moist woodland edge.

Aphids on a gloriously green, 'New Dawn' rose. Hey, birds, come on back!

The geranium and the carpenter bee. A myth or maybe a children's tale?

*Americas native -there are several Tradescantia native to both North and South America. Mine, while unknown, is likely a cultivated native of the northeastern American continent -such as Tradescantia virginiana.

Carpenter Bees Do It

On Sunday morning I was out grousing about the trash and dumped potting soil. I realize now that picking up trash is gardener's work. No one else seems to mind, or maybe they see litter as humanity's flower and, as you know, one should never pick the flowers. But I digress back to grousing.

As I made my way down the sidewalk, there were many, many carpenter bees. They live in the apartment building's sill, and this spring there appears to be many more than usual. I am quite used to them and consider them my unarmed guards. The males do not sting, but their curiosity and male on male aggressivity make apiphobes wary. I really like these bees. They exhibit very interesting behavior and tend to live, generation after generation, in the same location. Maybe this is why I think they recognize me -he who brings nectar (primitive-type bee speak).

As I was saying, I was making my way down the sidewalk, picking trash, and two bees locked together and had landed inside my jacket. Not until they landed did I realize this was not the usual battling males, but a male and female in the middle of Carpenter bee coitus. I have not had much experience with the females, but I know they have a useful stinger, and I didn't want to be where I wasn't wanted. I managed to slip off my jacket and drape it on the rail, but then I wanted my camera which was buried in a zipped pocket underneath their business. If it weren't for their preoccupation, I may have suffered a sting. Instead, two photos before they flew off, separately.

You can see how to identify the males from the females. The yellow or white patch between the eyes give the male away. If they are mating, their respective positions could tell the same.

Click on this one for full size.

November In The Garden

Old brass lamp beckons to all who pass.

All the neighborhood bees are here.

The self-seeded hot pepper. I pulled it today, only half-considering eating those green goblins.

The soiled napkins.

And borage.

And soiled napkins.

For The Bees

I stepped out this morning on my way to the studio. From the stoop I noticed a youngish man with a little dog. The guy was looking, somewhat transfixed it seemed to me, at the asters. This struck me. I had to ask.

Do you like those asters? "I'm looking for my bees. It seems your flowers are the only thing going right now."

Oh.

"I keep bees about two blocks from here and I like to check out where they're collecting"

Oh. The truly interesting thing that he told me is that, a year ago, he was afraid of bees -ran away from them. One class later, and he's scouting his bees in the neighborhood.

He then asked me if I had any goldenrod. I do, but it's passed, I said. Although they are asters too, I added. In fact, almost everything you see here blooming is an aster, and the bees do flock to them, while they do not seem to have much interest in the blooming chrysanthemums, although common flies well do.

Then, after small talk of moving, flooding basements in the neighborhood, the beach farm, and what have you, we went about our business. I'm glad to see the garden has some unrealized value to people around the block.  Of course, I see the bees, but I figure them for on their own, not part of a honey operation, an apiary. Awesome.

The Carpenters

As my landlord famously said, "Day divebomya!"

The male carpenter bees are very curious and defensive. They might even get in your business. This one, above, gets real close to my camera to check it out.

You can tell the males by the yellow-white marking between the eyes. The males don't have stingers, and the females that do are rarely seen. Those dive bombing bees are the males protecting their turf and fighting for mating rights. My mail carrier is much more comfortable with these guys now that I told him they don't sting.

Their aggression is usually directed at each other, but can also be directed at you or me, or other bugs in their territory. That territory is about the width and half the length of my front garden -allowing me to claim that they are guarding my plants, these sentries. You can see how the bee on the left is geared up for a strike against the other on the right, who's stance is more "casual." I find many bees on the sidewalk that have not made it through these battles (or so I presume).

It's tough out there, but you needn't worry about their aggressive posture -you are as likely to get into a scrap with a carpenter bee as a possum is likely to wrestle a man; interspecies battles being so uncommon after all.

P.S. My landlord has the wooden sill sprayed with some noxious chemical every year. It kill some, but they always come back. No, the hole carved into the sill is not good for your home, albeit only a couple of inches deep. Old holes are re-used, new holes are carved out. Use treated wood for your new sill, and properly flash it. Leave wood out in the yard if you would like to attract carpenter bees.

Where Bees Sleep

I am getting ready to put together a longer post on weeds. Until then, I want to relay to you my utter fascination with the beds for bees. Tonight, as I passed the garden's sunflowers, I noticed one bee, then many sitting on the

disk

. I almost couldn't believe what I was looking at so that I had to blow on them to see if they would move. It took me a few minutes to realize I should try to get some photos. I had to use the flash, which disturbed them a little. But then back to sleep they went.

My landlord set up a date with a siding contractor, coming soon. Despite promises to the contrary, I fully expect major destruction to the garden wherever the workers will be. Small spaces, ladders, bootfeet, and old shingles tossed to the ground pretty much spells the end of the growing season to me. With that in mind, here's a shot of the garden from this morning.

The garden in early June

The garden now.