May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun
And find your shoulder to light on,
To bring you luck, happiness and riches
Today, tomorrow and beyond.
Last year, a friend gifted me a couple of stalks of something I researched and learned was Sedum.
Someone had given a bunch to her, and she had no clue what it was. Just that it was easy to grow, even for a person without a green thumb.
In case you’re unfamiliar with Sedum, here’s some in bloom this year at one of our parks:
Sedum is a perennial in the Crassulaceae family, commonly called Stonecrop. It’s a succulent, with thick interesting leaves and clusters of star-shaped flowers and is available in two varieties — a low-grower suitable for ground cover or tall stalks ideal for border gardens.
Blooming in late summer through Fall, Sedum is showy in pinks, purples, blues, and yellows. It requires little attention, seeming to love sunshine and well-draining soil.
Sadly, the Sedum my friend gave me last year died out. Totally.
And when I told her how crushed I was over it, she offered me more this year. In fact, she gave me a huge clump of them in early Spring, long before they flowered.
Since putting them in the soil didn’t work last time, I planted them in a container, which the experts say is a good growing place. It’s raised off the ground, where curious bunnies and squirrels can’t get to it.
Even Dallas isn’t interested.
As spring turned to summer, I started watching eagerly for the Sedum to do something.
I didn’t know what color it would be and, like a kid digging inside a Cracker Jack box, I was curious over what “toy” I’d get.
Gradually, my Sedum got taller, and little yellowish-white nubs appeared:
Some time later, the nubs erupted into tiny star-shaped pinkish-purple flowers:
Then more flowers started showing up:
And I noticed that butterflies, moths, and fuzzy bees were drawn to it in droves. Why, it’s a butterfly magnet!
The Sedum at our park was equally popular. Look at the bees (those brownish splotches on the lower left flowers):
I can only hope my Sedum is sufficiently established to withstand an Illinois winter. The experts say I don’t have to do much of anything (deadheading, fertilizing, etc.). All that’s needed it letting it die naturally when the cold wind blows in, then waiting for new growth to emerge next spring.
What could be easier?
And honestly, isn’t its beauty worth a little effort?