The late July garden on Three Mile embraces the breezy, slow-paced days of August. This is the month that celebrates the pollinators and the plants that support this squadron of determined nectar-sippers. The milkweed groves and ironweed towers host many partygoers in the morning hours—and even more revelers when the sun reaches its peak. The importance of these wild gardens in urban spaces cannot be overstated; they are essential to supporting the populations of sensitive insects and wildlife we share these biomes with. Large or small, plots devoted to growing these August blooms yield hope, food, and places to procreate for our winged friends.
Beyond the glory that yellow cup-and-saucer plants bring to our gardens, equally majestic is the tangled matrix of the devoted meadow areas. In these spaces—often overlooked by most—a whole world spins from dawn to dusk and into the summer night.
Butterfly milkweed, or others in the Asclepias family, provide specific attributes that monarchs seek out. In the wild parts of our garden, I planted many colonies of these benevolent providers.
Our resident Indian Runners—Crystal, Gayle, Loretta, and Lynn—work hard to keep slug and pesky insect populations down. Aside from their proactive approach to pest control, these ladies animate the rain gardens and clover fields with their antics and all-too-loud playtime romps.
In a near-catatonic state, Cyrus’ stare could freeze a butterfly’s flutter. He is obsessed with the winged jewels feasting heavily on the August florets.
Joe-Pye and ironweed stands hold proud against the fireworks of the rudbeckias.
The sisters, never too shy, bathe all day and all night long.
What time is it, Lady Solei? The hummingbirds are due around noon.
In August, the last of the hula dancers take their final curtain call. July was their grand recital.
Perhaps not the queens of our garden—but certainly the princesses—the phlox stand regal, accompanied by their coterie of pink.
Tucked in amongst the apple orchard and well past their spring prime, the amsonia take full advantage of the August sun, storing energy for next season’s bloom.
Marie and Ilse are proud of their daily progeny, though slightly distressed at the thought that they may soon be sizzling in a skillet.
A large French Madelaine-Ochre oil jar stands sentinel like a Roman centurion, guarding the buzzy wasps feeding nearby.
Mr. Bensimon surveys his boxwood heaven.
Our herb pots are overflowing, and the peach trees in their containers are ripening nicely.
Late July ushered in the yellow symphony of blooms from Lady Oncidium.
Steadily growing all season, the wood asters colonizing the fringes aren’t quite ready to bloom yet—but soon, they’ll dust their white flowers across the acreage.
With hoses stretched here and there, the dogs and I ensure the new spring plantings are getting deep-watered—even now, especially now.
Cattails have colonized the rain garden ponds, and the red-winged blackbirds perch on the brown plumes, pogo-sticking here and there.
All in all, August is the month of the pollinator in the gardens on Three Mile. All the planning and planting have paid off after just a few years of growing. Our oasis of nectar is in its height of glory.