MJO

Most of the butterflies you'll see in June have been flying since spring. But a few species emerge for the first time this month — and the ones already here shift into their summer broods.

Already here and peaking: tiger swallowtails on every lilac, black swallowtails laying eggs on parsley and dill, red admirals working the mud puddles, painted ladies on anything blooming.

🌿 Emerging this month:

- Great spangled fritillary — large orange with silver spots underneath. Adults emerge in June after the caterpillar spent winter in leaf litter feeding on violets.
- Hackberry emperor — lands on people, attracted to sweat and salt. Found near hackberry trees.
- Summer azure — the tiny blue butterfly of June. Summer brood is smaller and paler than the spring brood.
- Zebra swallowtail — second brood. Darker and longer-tailed than the spring generation.
- Monarch generation two — caterpillars visible on milkweed this month.
- Viceroy — the monarch mimic. She's not toxic the same way — she tastes terrible on her own.

June has more butterfly species active at once than any other month 🐾

Borage (Borago officinalis) is one of the most productive pollinator plants you can put in a vegetable garden — and almost no one grows it. 🌿

The flowers are vivid cobalt-blue, star-shaped, and produced continuously from early summer until the first frost. Bumblebees and honeybees work them heavily, which makes borage particularly useful planted near tomatoes, squash, and strawberries that need consistent pollinator attention.

It is one of the easiest plants in the garden: direct-seed in place in spring, thin to about 12 inches apart, and give it regular water. It tolerates partial shade but flowers more prolifically in full sun. Germination takes about a week. No transplanting needed or wanted — borage does not move well.

The self-seeding behavior is the other reason to grow it: once you have borage in a bed, you essentially have it permanently. It drops seed heavily at the end of the season, and volunteers appear the following spring without any effort. Allow a few plants to go to seed each year and the population manages itself. 🌱

Borage also has a well-established reputation as a companion for tomatoes — some gardeners report reduced tomato hornworm pressure when borage grows nearby, though the mechanism is not fully understood. Its dense hairy foliage and strong scent are the likely deterrents.

One note: borage contains low levels of pyrrolizidine alkaloids. This is relevant if you plan to use the plant in any culinary way — moderate use is the standard guidance. As a garden plant, no concern applies.

https://youtube.com/shorts/qfiwg5Yz92A?si=LrU1LFi4wPOf4c-R

Area ice cream shop serving Faygo Rock and Rye soft serve for one week only It's vegan, believe it or not, unless you get it swirled with vanilla ice cream.

That shriveled tangle of roots you just unpacked looks like something for the compost. It isn't 🌿 It's a crown that will push spears every spring for years — once you plant it the patient way.

Asparagus runs on a buried crown, and the step most people rush is the soil. You don't fill the trench at planting. You cover the crown with just a couple of inches, let the spears find the light, then add soil in stages as they climb — so the crown settles to its full depth without ever smothering the shoots.

🌿 How to plant asparagus crowns:
- Dig a trench about 8 inches deep — shallower in heavy clay, deeper in sandy soil — and mound a low ridge down the center
- Drape each crown over the ridge with the buds pointing up and the roots spread down both sides
- Cover with only 2–3 inches of soil at first, then water in well
- As spears push up over the next few weeks, add a few inches of soil at a time until the trench is level
- Go gently with the backfill — dry clods dropped on young spears will snap them

🌱 One thing to watch for:
- Don't cut a single spear the first year. The crown needs a couple of full seasons to bank its reserves before it can carry a harvest — rush it and you weaken the bed for years

A crown that looks dead in your hand is just one that's waiting underground. Plant it slow, and it pays you back every spring 🍃