It’s the unsung hero of autumn: as other blooms fade, ivy flowers offer insects a final feast before winter, says wildlife writer Jane Adams
As we quietly slip into autumn, with fewer hours of daylight and cooler temperatures, many of our flying insects are making their last farewells. Of course, not all are nearing the end of their lives: some, like bumblebee queens, will tuck themselves away until warmer weather returns. But before they go, there’s time for one last hurrah.
With the vibrancy of spring and summer faded, it can sometimes feel like winter is approaching fast. Happily, October still has a few surprises tucked up her sleeve – and one of those is the humble ivy, or, more specifically, its flowers. I know what some of you are thinking.
Ivy? Has she lost her mind?
Bear with me.
Ivy is easy to dismiss as an invasive weed which rampages through gardens and smothers everything. However … sometimes that smothering is exactly what’s needed.
We have a dead apple tree in our garden. Many years ago, it became the scaffolding for an ivy with high-rise aspirations. Gradually, the ivy crept up the trunk of the old tree, until one autumn it reached a height of about six feet … and flowered. It can take ivy up to ten years to reach maturity and bloom, and even then, it will only do so when it gets enough sunlight … but wow, when it does, you’ll know about it.
If I step into the garden on a sunny day in October, I can smell the honeyed fragrance of the ivy flowers before I even see them. As I get closer, the ivy’s firework-like blooms explode with a myriad of colours, shapes and species of insects: black, yellow and orange marmalade and hornet hoverflies, comma and tortoiseshell butterflies with their hankie wings, as well as wasps, hornets, ivy bees and fluffy yellow and black virgin queen bumblebees.
It’s approaching sensory overload, I admit, but there’s a wonderfully rowdy and friendly festival vibe.
So, when the sun shines this month – as we all hope it will – I encourage you to go in search of a flowering ivy and immerse yourself in this autumn phenomenon. But be quick. This performance is over in the flap of a wing and the stare of a compound eye.
