If flowers are a plant's sex parts, and my botany textbook says it's so, then bee balm has evolved to be in-you-face flamboyant. Notice me! Surrender! It's the Lady GaGa (please pardon the pop culture reference) of the angiosperm world. If I were a bee, a wasp, a fly, or God forbid, even an earwig, it would be easy for me to become so balmed.
This particular bee balm was growing along the Clingman's Dome Road in the Great Smokies.
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