Earlier this year, I made a daring decision to go online and order some plants for the garden. I recalled that I’d had some success in attracting hummingbirds on a previous occasion with Blue Brazilian Sage so I purchased 4 plants and anxiously awaited their arrival.
Because they were rather expensive, when you factored in the cost of shipping and handling, I was quite nervous about them being tossed about in the mail, but when they eventually turned up on the doorstep, I was pleasantly surprised. Each plant was carefully wrapped to protect against buffeting and all four were in excellent shape.
I’d picked out a spot in the garden but despite my eagerness to get them into the ground and growing, I assiduously followed the directions on the accompanying leaflet, allowing them to acclimatize to our uncertain Chicago climate by having them stand for a few hours each day, out on the patio. Meanwhile I supplemented the ground with fresh topsoil and compost, turning it over and working it into our rather heavy clay soil.
When I figured the time was right, I planted them with all the care and concern that a mother lavishes on a newborn babe. I watered them generously while allowing only a very gentle stream to trickle from the hosepipe so as not to swamp them, and having made sure that everything was just right, I wished them goodnight.
The following morning, I went out to see how they were doing and ……… horror! A picture of devastation met my eyes. Something had eaten them practically down to the nubs. I consider myself too much of a lady (ha-ha!) to repeat the words that past my lips at that dreadful moment but suffice it to say the air was bluer than the flowers on a Brazilian Blue Sage.
But despite this setback I was not deterred. In the words of the late Sir Winston Churchill, “Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in, except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.…..” Well, you get the picture.
I wasn’t sure if they had succumbed to the attentions of a gang of marauding rabbits, I wouldn’t put it past them, or if some ravenous bug had decided to tuck in. There probably wasn’t much I could do about it, either way, so I decided to take a wait-and-see approach.
Goodness knows what the neighbors thought as I knelt beside those plants every day, whispering words of encouragement to their few pathetic stalks. They probably figured I’d joined some obscure religious sect. No matter. Encouragement was all I had to offer. That and a liberal dose of Miracle Gro. It would take a miracle, I thought sardonically, to produce anything remotely resembling the plant on the literature provided.
But eventually, little microscopic leaves began to appear, urged on, no doubt, by my exhortations, until it looked as if there might indeed be cause to celebrate. I waited on tenterhooks. Would the rabbits come back? Could I keep the bugs at bay long enough to see actual flowers developing?
It was at about this time that I visited the Chicago Botanic Garden to see how similar plants were faring. Their salvias, I noticed with envy, were much more advanced, larger and with flowers. Of course, they’d probably kept theirs in the greenhouse with all the advantages that a top-class garden had to offer.
Still, where there’s life there’s hope. My plants were growing stronger by the day and with continued blandishments such as, “You can do it!” and “Nice work!” they finally flowered.
But where were the hummingbirds? For a couple of weeks, nothing larger than a bee approached the blue blossoms. I was somewhat consoled by the fact that they didn’t seem any more interested in the flowers at the Botanic Garden, so I waited. And then, a few days ago, the first of the hummingbirds showed up. Persistence paid off! Thanks for the sage advice, Winnie!
