Playin' Outside

It seems like building housing for native bees would be a good thing, but it seems I've created some tiny striped monsters.  With so many options available in my garden, they've started to see everything as potential housing. Today I watched a leafcutter bee for thirty minutes as she tried to decide between the holes in an orchid pot and the hole in the handle of my Cobrahead tool.  If you're not wondering how I could stare at a bee for 30 minutes, you're my kind of people.  Look closely at the hole in the blue handle - that's her butt in there.  She must've gone in and out fifty times, trying to envision where to put her things. Can't really see her?  Here's a blurry, but full picture of my little friend. It's not her fault, really.  The old digs were already buzzin' with new tenants and she had to think fast.  That new fancy place with the green bottles may have looked too rich for her taste, and what's a girl to do with k

Shortly after I first heard about insect hotels, one of my favorite bloggers built one in her "Middle Tennessee" garden.  See Clay and Limestone's Pollinator Condo here .  Inspired by her design, I did what all of us do these days - a Google search - only to find out that those garden crazy Europeans have been wild about insect hotels for years.  There are even national contests in the UK to see who builds the most clever design.  It was clearly time to catch up. Closer to home, my friend Sheryl who blogs at Yard Fanatic has constructed the most amazing tower of insect friendliness.  Her Austin garden is already awe inspiring, but I just had to keep going back to admire her well-researched and beautifully designed insect hotel .  Hers was completed in time to welcome the spring bees, and served as another nudge for me to get my "bee-hind" in gear.  Recently she and Ed spent four sunny Saturday hours helping me cut branches and drill bee sized holes in mater