Some of my favorite plants in the gardens that I tend to are those I had nothing to do with their inclusion. (The converse is also true, particularly with stealthily introduced invasives.) This year at Ann’s Place joe-pye weed stretches high in the back garden above the Virginia rye, golden rod and the remaining phragmites that I am in the process of removing. It was not there last year but fits nicely into the palette of plants that define one of the herbaceous boarders near the wetlands. I hope it continues to spread. The same is true of the milkweed that has taken up residence next to the entrance of Ann’s Place. It combined with sunflowers, lavender and anise hyssop has created a pollinators’ paradise inhabited by bees, butterflies, wasps and other insects feeding off the abundant nectars. Monarch butterflies have started to lay eggs on the milkweed completing the cycle.
But this year a new set of volunteers, a patch of sunflowers, have sprouted in the unlikely location of a gravel-filled walk area next to the set of Bilco doors leading to my basement. They have emerged from an unanticipated source: a bird feeder. There are three feeders in the front of our house: two filled with sunflower seeds, the other with suet. Once the snow has melted and plants emerge, the feeders with seeds are removed until the fall. But unlike prior years where the gravel has been devoid of any vegetation until weedy grasses emerge, sunflower seedings popped up in mid-May. As we purchase shelled seeds, I did not think they would be viable having gone though a rough industrial process.
In the early season, my wife and granddaughter were unsure of these plants but soon recognized their form once they became knee high. I wondered how long they would last in such a precarious location but ironically they topped me in height by mid July and sprouted lovely flowers. Bees took it upon themselves to swarm around this new group plants as busy as one would expect for a bee. And their efforts were rewarded with fat clumps of maturing seeds.
This result, however, doomed them to an early demise as evening visitors (I suspect raccoons) took it upon themselves to feast upon the flowers. Each morning a new plant had been knocked over and all the seeds were gone leaving only barren seed heads. Now there are only a few plants left intact but perhaps a few seeds have escaped the reaches of my outdoor neighbors leaving the possibility that new plants will emerge in the coming year.
