Something Went Wrong With My Monarda bradburiana

Did I remember a particular plant in my garden just recently? I am actually shockingly embarrassed that it was not until it was “too late” that I took notice of a plant that should have bloomed weeks before. Yet it was barely 6 inches tall? How did I miss this? Last year at this same time of year, it was up to my knee.

Plants in my garden sometimes grow so well that I know every little thing about them. I know when they are stressed. I know when they are flourishing. But somehow, I let a plant nearly disappear from my garden because I forgot about it. I remembered it solely because of a visual cue. Whether that cue came from a social media post of someone else’s garden, or if it came from a “pop up” on Google photos I am not sure. But I know that it hit me hard. By the time I was checking my hand, I was so sad that 52 weeks had gone by (like a shuffle of 52 cards) in a whirlwind and I missed it. Yet, what was more saddening? The fact that I forgot about the flower? Or that the flower didn’t bloom? That the dealer won? Or that I lost?

In my despair. I DMed a follower. “What do you think is up here?” Perhaps something as simple as a lack of full sun. Why did this plant seemingly throw in the cards this season?

When this plant entered my garden for the first time its neighbors were not as widespread as they are now. You see, as plants grow, they can also grow INTO one another. This is not the first time that this has happened in my yard. But this time just hit especially hard because I loved this plant so much. It had amazing fall color and I loved how it attracted bees like a honey pot. I guess it is not unlike when you sit at a winning seat at cards and you are literally on a roll. And then someone new joins the table and all bets are off. Your losing streak is over.

Was it directly attributed to that person sitting there? Probably not. But for whatever reason. This plant needed a change of suit.

Today, with a huge clump of dirt beneath him. He moved tables. Let’s hope its sunny over there, and the cards are in his favor. If there’s one thing I can count on for native plants, its their resiliency. Maybe next May it’ll be a royal flush.

It was the new kid in my garden last year and I was in love with its color. In bloom, a pale lavender. In fall, the leaves morphed out of green and into a boysenberry hue that accented beautifully against a carpet of fallen sycamore and sweet gum leaves.  I caught on to trouble too late.