Buddlejas often get a bad press. They seed themselves everywhere, specialising in the most inaccessible places. Perversely this is one of things I like about them. It is the “when all us stupid humans are gone it won’t take long before there will be no trace left” that makes me smile. They are also magnets for pollinators, perhaps a slightly less Armageddonesque reason to love them.
This pink beauty is doing well at The Farm. Rescued earlier in the year from a garden centre Death Row, it has made a full recovery. Last week it was full of bees and butterflies, as any buddleja worth its salt should be. Unfortunately these supping beauties were too quick for me, you will have to make do with their landing pad.
I love buddlejas, too. When I was a child visiting my grandparents who lived near the old Billingsgate Fish Market in London, I regularly went across the road to the church of St Dunstan in the East, much of it destroyed in the Blitz in WW2. Every summer it was a burst of Buddlejas amongst the ruins, nature taking over. Now St Dunstan’s has been tidied up and turned into a public garden. I hope they have kept some Buddlejas.
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I have these thoughts, too; that global warming doesn’t really threaten the planet. It threatens mankind and the creatures. Eventually, the planet will recover. Just think about the rewilding of Detroit.
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We had one germinate in the house guttering last year and I have seen one growing out of a chimney pot up at the start of the Malvern Hills.
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