You do not need a garden to garden for wildlife. A window box, a balcony, a doorstep pot or even a narrow strip of paving between the bins can become a genuine refuelling station for bees, hoverflies, butterflies and moths. Our pollinators are struggling with habitat loss, and the great thing about small-scale planting is that it works on their terms: they do not care whether nectar comes from a meadow or a two-litre pot on a fire escape. What matters is that the flowers are rich in nectar and pollen, open enough to reach, and available across as much of the year as possible.
British native plants are a sound starting point because our insects evolved alongside them. They are also, conveniently, some of the toughest and most generous flowering plants you can grow in a confined space.
Choose plants that flower freely, hold their nectar well and tolerate restricted roots.
Pollinators need food from March to October, so plan a succession rather than a single flush. Early on, cowslips, primroses and the humble dandelion (leave a few) provide vital spring fuel. Foxgloves and ox-eye daisies carry you through early summer. From midsummer, marjoram, lavender, betony and viper's bugloss take over. For autumn, nothing beats ivy in flower — a mature wall or fence smothered in it will hum with bees and provide late nectar for red admirals before hibernation.
A simple rule: make sure something is flowering in spring, something in early summer, and something in late summer. Three or four pots chosen with that in mind will outperform a dozen random impulse buys.
Not all flowers are equal. Double blooms — the pom-pom dahlias, frilly petunias and tightly packed roses — often have little or no accessible nectar, and what is there is hidden behind layers of petal. Stick to single, open, daisy-like or tubular flowers.
Plant in groups of at least three of the same variety. Pollinators forage more efficiently when they can work a single species in a block, and a repeated plant reads as a reliable patch rather than a lonely pit stop. Site pots in full sun where you can, sheltered from the worst of the wind, and plant them densely — bare compost dries out quickly and offers nothing.
Use peat-free compost, skip pesticides entirely, and hold back on feeding. Rich, heavily fertilised plants grow soft and leafy at the expense of flowers.
Nectar keeps adults flying; caterpillars need specific plants to eat. Bird's-foot trefoil supports the common blue. A pot of stinging nettle, kept contained and cut back occasionally, will feed peacock, small tortoiseshell and red admiral caterpillars. Holly and ivy look after the holly blue.
Leave a bundle of hollow stems and a small pile of dead leaves in a quiet corner. Solitary bees, ladybirds and lacewings all overwinter in that kind of untidiness. A shallow dish of water with pebbles for landing gives insects a safe drink on hot days.
Go bigger than you think necessary: a 30cm-diameter pot holds moisture far better than a tiny one and gives roots room to work. Terracotta dries out fast, so glazed or sturdy plastic is often the better bet. Mix grit into the compost for lavender, marjoram and viper's bugloss, and mulch the surface with gravel to lock in moisture and deter weeds. Group pots together to create a slightly humid microclimate, and water in the morning rather than the heat of the afternoon.
Match the plant to the spot. A sunny, south-facing balcony suits marjoram, lavender and thyme. A shaded courtyard or north-facing sill is ideal for red campion, foxglove and wood avens. Secure window boxes properly — a full box is heavier than most people expect — and make sure brackets are sound before the first watering.
Begin with one pot of wild marjoram and one of lavender, set them in the sunniest place you have, and spend a few minutes a week just watching. Keep a note of what visits and when. You will almost certainly be surprised by how much life a couple of containers attracts — and once you have seen a bumblebee working a foxglove spike on a June morning, widening the operation tends to follow naturally.
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