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Soft lavender flowers resembling tiny pom-poms are blooming in my yard. They’re also displaying in a wild patch of native flowers at a nearby local park, as well as in many prairies and naturalized gardens in the region.

This native plant, called bee balm, wild bergamot or specifically Monarda fistulosa, is magic to bees, especially bumblebees, whose populations are declining. Bumblebees perch on the flower, then dip their long tongues into the structure that provides the nectar to get their sugar fix.

A bumblebee is particularly attracted to colors in the blue and purple spectrum. That includes the ultraviolet patterns on flower petals that humans can’t see, but bumblebees can. Imagine if you could see all those hues.

The Latin genus name of bee balm, Monarda, refers to a Spanish physician and botanist, Nicolas Bautista Monardes, who studied medicinal plants in the 1500s.

“Fistulosa” means tubular, referring to the tubular flowers that sit atop a square stem.

That square stem signals bee balm is in the mint family, and indeed the plant has a minty aroma. Years ago, people who lived among the native prairies of the Midwest would use the oil from the plant’s leaves to treat respiratory illness. Folks today still use the fragrant leaves to make tea. Gently rubbing the plant’s soft leaves will release that aroma. And in fall, the crushed seed heads also emit an intoxicating smell.

Another bee balm species is Mondara didyma. Called Owego tea, it’s native to the Northeast and considered an invasive in Illinois. Still, gardeners here plant it because they love the scarlet red flowers it produces, as opposed to Monarada fistulosa’s subtler purple hues.

I’m partial to our true prairie native bee balm, and not all that fond of the many cultivars of bee balms created for certain looks and effects. Still they do attract bumble bees, and we need these insects. In fact, bumblebees pollinate tomatoes, peppers, raspberries, and a host of other crop foods. Bumblebee species also are likely the only pollinators of potatoes around the world. So bring on the bee balm.

While watching bumblebees busily seeking nectar in a large patch of bee balm near my home, I realized that many years ago, insects, especially bees, made me nervous. But now they just fascinate me. I watch them to see if they’ll engage in what’s called buzz pollination. When the pollen is difficult to get at, a bumblebee grabs part of the flower and vibrates hundreds of times per second. That releases the pollen, which can be eaten and inadvertently transferred to pollinate other plants. Honey bees cannot do that.

I wonder if the mint smell of bee balm leaves attracts bees as much as its color does. Some studies show bumblebees do have a great sense of smell, and may even be attracted to a particular flower by its scent.

July and August is high summer. It’s when the wild bergamots bloom, inviting bumblebees to a feast. Immerse yourself in that world, listening to the bees, smelling the minty aroma and ogling the lavender hues. And even touch the leaves, which are delicate and soft. Nature gives us the opportunity to engage all our senses, and summer is a perfect time to do so.

Sheryl DeVore has worked as a full-time and freelance reporter, editor and photographer for the baiduhai and its subsidiaries. She’s the author of several books on nature and the environment. Send story ideas and thoughts to [email protected]