
If you only change one thing in your garden this year, make it this: stop buying double flowers. Those ruffled, petal-packed blooms may look lavish on the garden centre bench, but for bees and butterflies they are often a dead end. Years of breeding have turned stamens and nectaries into extra petals, leaving little or nothing to eat.
What pollinators need is an open, single flower with a visible centre — a landing pad plus a drink. Think of the flat daisy family, the lipped blooms of the mint family, and the bell-shaped flowers of foxgloves. You will often see this written as single, open, nectar-rich, and it is the single most useful phrase to carry around a nursery.
Native and near-native plants tend to score highest, but plenty of garden favourites earn their place too. The good news is that many of them are cheap, tough and generous with seed.
Small-space growing is no barrier to a bee-friendly garden. A sunny balcony can outperform a large shaded lawn any day, because warmth and shelter matter as much as square footage. Aim for at least half a day of direct sun and shelter from strong wind.
Group pots together rather than scattering them. A cluster of five containers creates its own microclimate and gives passing pollinators a target they can find by scent from metres away.
Shade is not the enemy, but it does change the planting list. Dappled woodland light suits spring-flowering plants that complete their season before the canopy closes over — precisely when queen bumblebees are emerging and hungry.
Improve the soil with leaf mould rather than rich compost, and avoid disturbing the leaf litter — that is where many solitary bees and moths overwinter.
A single lavender in a sea of grass is hard work for a bee. Pollinators forage by sight and scent, and they navigate far more efficiently between clumps of the same plant. This is why planting in drifts — repeated groups of three, five or seven of one variety — works so well.
As a rough guide, aim for a patch at least 60cm by 60cm for a proper drift in a border. In a small garden, one generous pot of catmint counts as a drift in its own right. Repeat the same plant in two or three places around the plot, and you create a route rather than a single pit stop.
Plant for succession, too: something in flower in March, something in June, something in September. A garden that feeds insects for eight months is worth far more than one spectacular fortnight in July.
Resist the autumn tidy-up. Seed heads are winter food and shelter rolled into one.
Cut back in late February or March, just as new growth stirs, and leave the cuttings in a loose heap at the back of the border for a fortnight before composting.
Skip pesticides entirely — even the organic ones rarely distinguish between aphids and the larvae eating them. Leave a shallow dish of water with pebbles for drinking. Let a patch of lawn grow long and see what turns up. And when you deadhead, do it selectively: tidy the front of the border, but leave the back to seed.
Most of all, plant more than you think you need. A garden that feeds bees and butterflies generously will also feed your eyes, your birds and your curiosity — and it will look, quite simply, alive.
Hi, my name is Anthony kuber. I am artist and fashion designer.
I love to travel and writing blogging.
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