It's bee-balm season, finally. I say "finally" because I only (at the moment) have one bee-balm, Jacob Cline, and it's the early star of my Red Garden.
(OK, more honestly, the Red Garden isn't very red, at least broadly, until August, when the dahlias and the trumpet vines really get going. I'm working on this, trust me. Bee-balm, late in June, is the "early" indicator that this is, in fact a "red" garden.)
Jacob Cline is the best bee-balm to start with, because unlike so many of the tribe, it never, never, never gets powdery mildew. How's this for a disgusting Wiki-image of P-M on a gourd leaf? Powdery, slippery, slippery in the rainy: When a plant has powdery mildew, it's Pretty Much Slimed-up.
Yuck. Even "mildew-resistant" bee-balms can get PMS: They ain't mildew-proof. But Jacob Cline? Even though I do nothing to prepare for or fight off PMS—no thinning out of the stems to increase air flow, no spraying of anything to kill of an early outbreak, no extra watering in case there's a drought and the famously water-friendly bee-balm would become stressed and therefore more mildew-susceptible—Jacob is free and clear the entire season. So, I say: Grow this bee-balm! Then there won't be any PMS in your Red Garden either. Jacob Cline lets you enjoy what you're supposed to about bee-balms: the long long season of perky big-impact flowers.
My colony has started into bloom just this week, so the display is still young. But it's intense anyway. No staking, no pinching, no dead-heading either. No nothing, just week after week after week of eager cooperative bloom, and month after month of disease-free (but, true, like all bee-balms, boring) green foliage beneath.
The other thrill of bee-balm can be, if you're of the thinking sort, inferred right from the flowers.

Can you see that the perky "You called, boss? Anything I can do for you sir?" flower clusters are made up of individual prong-shaped flowers, one prong up, one prong down? A bit closer look, and with better light to show you how red Jacob really is:

Each flower is like a narrow jaw flung wide open, with the black nostrils (the pollen actually) at the top, and the deep deep throat opened up in the center.
So: Red flowers in warm weather. Red flowers that are deep and tubular (work with me here: throaty is "tubular"). Yup: Bee-balm should really be called Hummer-heaven: the little guys just go wild for it.
Bullet-proof culture, six week, or is it two months or more? of great flowers, guaranteed visits by hummingbirds: Jacob Cline is a Summer star.