An Unexpected Favorite

I'll admit it: I'm just a tiny bit afraid of Euphorbias. They have a reputation for being poisonous both by ingestion and by contact with the sap. (The degree of both the toxicity and causticity of the sap does vary greatly among the numerous species.) Many of them also have nasty spines. Both my husband and stepson have referred to more than one of mine as "that evil pointy plant." Some of them have an otherwordly appearance that would be right at home in my nightmares, if I were inclined to have nightmares about plants. (Considering how many plants I have, and how much time I devote to caring for, reading about, and thinking about plants, it is amazing that I have never had a plant-ish nightmare. Now that I mentioned it, it'll probably happen.)

My Euphorbia lactea

But I love my partially-crested Euphorbia lactea. When I bought it, the non-crested part of the plant was only about three inches taller than the crest, and was unbranched. Four years later, now it is 16 inches taller, and has several "arms." (The crest has gotten a bit taller as well, but not very much.) Overall, the plant is about 22 inches tall from soil level to the top of the tallest stem.

Same plant. This picture is taken at a slight different angle, more accurately showing the relative sizes of the crested and regular portions of the plant.

I love this plant not only because I find it beautiful, but because it is relatively carefree. I put in a sunny window in the winter and outdoors most summers. (It didn't go out in the summer of 2009, and is none the worse for having been a strictly indoor plant for more than a year now.) I water it when it is dry, and I haven't repotted it in at least two years. The only problem I've ever had with it was in the summer of 2007, when I didn't do a good job in acclimating it to the sun outdoors, and it got sunburned. I thought I was going to have an ugly plant from then on, but it recovered with just a scar or two, which aren't visible from most angles.

Close-up of the crest. A sunburn scar can be seen on a stem in the background. More detail can be seen in all three pictures if you click on them.

There is another thing that pleases me about my plant: At a nursery last year, I saw a partially crested E. lactea, about the size of mine, but not as attractive, priced at $35.00. I'm pretty sure I bought my plant for around seven bucks. It's silly, I know, but I get a kick out of the idea that I can raise a plant to be something that would be more valuable than what I started with, at least to someone.

Animal Life Among the Leaves, Once Again

I haven't made a weekend pet-and-plant post for a while, mostly because I was preoccupied with less than happy pet activities. But I'd like to take it up again. Here's a picture from summer 2008:

Peppermint sniffs at the base of an Hibiscus rosa-sinensis, with Hippeastrum 'Charisma' blooming in the background.

I hope everyone who celebrated Thanksgiving this past weekend had a happy one, and that those for whom this is not a custom had a great weekend as well. There will be a return to more substantive posts this week.

My Heart Belongs To Hedera

Yes, I bought yet another new Hedera helix today:

Hedera helix 'Goldheart'

Previous posts chronicling my ivy obsession can be found by clicking "Hedera" in the labels following this post. I'll just say that this was a cultivar that I hadn't expected to find locally, let alone at Home Depot.

Easier Than I thought

Two plants that I always found attractive, but avoided buying for years are Platycerium bifurcatum (Staghorn Fern) and Araucaria heterophylla (Norfolk Island Pine). I thought that they would require conditions I couldn't provide easily: High light, cool temperatures, and lots and lots of supplemental humidity for both. Each plant turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

I first took the plunge with a clearance-priced Platycerium in a 4-inch pot a few years ago. I decided that I would just treat it like my other plants. The only difference is that it was potted (and now mounted) with its roots in sphagnum moss instead of soil. I placed it in my east-facing bedroom window shelves, and watered when the moss was not quite dry. It thrived and grew. Things went well for two years. I never once gave it any additional humidity; no misting, no pebble tray, no humidifier, no nothing. Then came the winter of 2008-2009, when the plant grew too large for the window shelves, and I decided to try it under lights in the basement. It suffered a bit there, and several of the fronds dried out and fell off. The problem was probably underwatering--I keep mostly succulents in the basement, and while the Staghorn fern doesn't mind drying out a bit, it likes more water than most succulents. I admit that I did tend to forget it down there. No worries: I put the plant outdoors under a tree for the summer, and the vacation in the rain and humidity revived it.

My Staghorn fern. It is probably Platycerium bifircatum, though it could be another Platycerium species. If not for the setbacks it suffered last winter, it would be much larger. I now keep it in the kitchen, where I can keep an eye on it.

As for the Araucaria, I couldn't ask for an easier plant. I do keep it in a slightly cooler room in the winter (I close one of the heat vents) but other than that, I do not give it any special care. Again, I do not do anything to raise the humidity. I keep it close to the window (either east or west) and I don't let it dry out completely. I have put it out on my porch during the summer for the past two years, but that is mostly because I like how it looks out there, not for any cultural advantage. It is slow growing, but it is lovely lush and green.

Above and below: My Araucaria heterophylla. It is currently in an 8-inch pot.

I might even get another plant of each. One of the local nurseries usually has a small Platycerium or two for sale. Last year I saw some nice large Araucarias on post-Christmas clearance, but I didn't buy them because they were coated with glitter. (Why do retailers do things like that to poor innocent plants?) I have been told that the glitter will wash off with some effort, so maybe if I see a bargain this year, I'll give it a try.

In Praise of Succulents: Jade Plant Edition

Due to the events mentioned in my last post, I have been unable to give my houseplants my full attention for the past couple of weeks. As a result, there have been a few problems, including, ::sob:: the loss of my original Hedera helix plant, my absolute favorite. (You can read about it, and see its former beauty here.) Somehow, I must have skipped over it during watering, probably more than once, and yesterday I discovered a dry brittle mess that most likely cannot be salvaged.

Well, there was much wailing, cursing and gnashing of teeth, during which the lament “Why can’t all houseplants be like succulents?” was repeated more than once. I mean, if I miss watering one of those once or twice, it is no big deal.

I managed to calm down, remembering that my dentist had warned me of the dire consequences of the gnashing of teeth during my last check-up. While I definitely wouldn't want to have a plant collection consisting solely of succulents, I do love them. And it really is in times like this that I really appreciate the durability and beauty of my Jade plants (Crassula spp.)

Crassula ovata

Different view of the same plant, showing more of its structure. I've had this plant for several years, maybe since 2001. It is one of the few succulents that I grew in my New York area apartment, which was bright, but didn't get direct sun in mid-winter.

Crassula arborescens and Crassula ovata variegata

Crassula ovata 'Gollum'

I think my favorite Jade Plant is my Crassula ovata 'Gollum' grown from cuttings received from a generous Garden Web poster in the summer of 2003. I've pruned this over the years to give it a pleasing shape, otherwise it would be a much larger plant. In spring 2008 nature decided to do some pruning of its own when the wind knocked my plant off the back stoop. It took more than a year of allowing the plant to grow unchecked before I was able to re-prune it into a shape I found pleasing, in late summer 2009.

Life and Loss Among the Leaves

It may have been noted that I haven’t been posting as frequently as usual during the past week or so. That is because things have been very sad here among the leaves for some time. We finally had to make the decision to have our golden retriever, Laces, euthanized this past Monday. She was 13, which is a good long life for a large dog (the human age equivalent is 80+) but it was still a very hard thing to do. I originally wrote a post describing her decline and what led up to it in some detail, but I found it long and clinical and pointless. Suffice it to say that Laces was a good dog, loving and eager-to-please up to the end, but she was sick and in pain and it was time for her to stop being sick and in pain.

Laces, five years ago, with a Bryophyllum. She really never cared for having her picture taken, hence the less-than-pleased expression.

I first met her when I was dating my husband seven years ago and it was then that I was treated to the story of how she got her somewhat unusual name. Bob took his children to the breeder’s to choose a puppy, and an adorable little fuzzball rushed right up to my future step-daughter, and immediately tugged on her shoelaces with her teeth, untying them. This thoroughly delighted the whole family. They felt, and rightly so, that this puppy had chosen them. Apparently she retained a thing for shoelaces for quite some time, although she did eventually grow out of it. But Laces didn’t grow out of being friendly, playful and interested in everything around her. When I married my husband, she became my buddy, and I felt that she had also chosen me. I had long been a cat person, and experiencing the affection of a dog was a new and wonderful experience.

Laces more recently. She had become quite gray around the eyes and muzzle.

I do have a plant-related anecdote about her. Several years ago, when I was getting into cacti and succulents, Bob had a request for me. He asked me not to add any cacti with glochids to my collection. I asked him why, and he said he was afraid that our animals might hurt themselves, particularly the dogs. Just as I was pooh-poohing the idea, saying that our pets mostly ignore my plants, Laces walked up to an Aeonium that was on a low shelf and licked it. Well, alrighty then.

Goodbye, good girl. Your Karen misses you.

More Aloes

As a follow-up to my last post, I thought I'd share a few more pictures of my Aloes. One thing I noticed, and am mildly embarrassed about, is that I don't have positive IDs for quite a few of my plants, beyond being sure that they are Aloes. This works out okay in caring for them, but seems, well, somewhat lacking if I am going to write about them.

Aloe variegata

Possibly Aloe 'Dapple Green'

Aloe brevifolia

Maybe Aloe bellatula, maybe not

Aloe striata. This isn't a plant with offsets, but rather three individuals potted together.

Small Aloe juvenna, grown from offsets of my larger plant (not pictured)

NoId Aloe, with very sharp teeth

This one looks like it could be Aloe 'Doran Black' but I am uncertain.


Aloe greenii x linneata. I had another of these, and it was a bit different looking, with larger spots. That one developed unsightly black depressions on the leaves, so I tossed it.

I think this is Aloe saponaria. I think that because I know I bought an A. saponaria a few years ago, and I know that I didn't get rid of it. Since I don't have anything else that could possibly be A. saponaria, by process of elimination, this must be it. I post this as a cautionary tale: Don't lose those tags boys and girls!

How I Ended Up With Thirty Aloes

In my very first blog post last month, one of the questions I posed was "Thirty Aloes? How the hell did that happen?" So I thought it was high time I answered it.

For years, Aloe was one of those plants that I was distinctly unexcited about. That is because I basically thought Aloe was one of those plants. You know, Aloe vera: dull green, maybe with a few random spots, pointy and bland. (Or at least that is what is typically sold as Aloe vera; I understand there is a case of mistaken identity going on.) I guess I knew in the back of my mind that there were other species around, but I thought they were more of the same. Dull green, pointy and boring. Hah.

Twenty-one Aloes enjoying last summer in my backyard.

Maybe about five years ago, someone on Garden Web posted a picture of an Aloe with deep green, shiny leaves and a pattern of not quite stripes, not quite spots. I thought it was quite lovely, not boring at all. "That’s an Aloe? Hmm. Maybe there is more to this genus than I thought."

A similar species to the one that caught my eye on Garden Web. This might be Aloe harlana, or Aloe hemmingii, or a hybrid, or something else entirely.

For some reason that very summer, the box and discount stores in my area were full of interesting aloes. I must have picked up six different varieties at Home Depot alone. This was a true case of wanting the right thing at the right time: I’ve never seen that broad a selection of aloes around here since. It isn’t that I bought everything that they carry and am thus jaded with what is available. It is that they don’t even carry the ones I do have anymore. That same year I also purchased several plants from a couple of local nurseries and on eBay.

Aloe congolensis

That year the collector’s fever was truly upon me, similar to what I’ve recounted in my posts about Hedera helix. Once I found out how many varieties there were to be had, I had to have as many as possible. Everywhere I went that sold plants, I looked for a new Aloe. Since then my ardor has cooled; I still like them, and still keep an eye out–but the thrill of the hunt is gone.

My experience with Aloes has been very rewarding; I find them to be excellent succulents for those of us who must keep our plants indoors for the winter. They slow down their growth in response to lower light, but they do not take on a leggy appearance, like say, Echeveria (my other favorite succulent genus.) Even if they do stretch out a bit, it is generally not enough to disfigure the plant.

Aloe marlothii. This one is actually more ferocious than Aloe ferox, with which it is sometimes confused. This was actually my first Aloe purchase, almost 6 years ago. Even though I likely knew that it was an aloe, I really didn't think of it as one. (I didn't get an actual ID until later.) It was in a two-inch pot when I bought it; now it is almost large enough to sit at the dinner table.

Probably my favorite Aloe. I've never been able to get a positive ID, though Aloe sinkatana has been brought up as a possibility.

Another NoId favorite, with its summer colors. It reverts to green after some time indoors.

Possibly Aloe gariepensis

Aloe ciliaris

Aloe dichotoma. I over watered this one a few winters ago, and the roots and lower stem rotted. I took a stem cutting above the damage, and kept my fingers crossed. It took almost two years, but it finally rooted. Edited to add 07/31/10: It has been brought to my attention that this is mostly likely Aloe ramosissima, rather than A. dichotoma.

Finally, this isn't one of my plants, of course. It is a tree-sized Aloe in the collection of the New York Botanical Gardens. I wish I had written down its name. This photograph is from 2003 and is one of my favorites I've ever taken, even though it was done with a rather low-tech camera. As with all the photos it can be clicked for a larger version.
11/18/09 Edited to Add: This is probably Aloe barberae, which is also known as Aloe bainesii.

A Little Something in Silver

As a follow-up to yesterday's post on Epipremnum aureum, popularly called pothos, I thought I'd post some pictures of the other genus popularly called pothos: Scindapsus. This is often referred to as Satin Pothos or Silver Pothos, and occasionally as Silver Philodendron. It is a relative of Epipremnum and of Philodendron, being in the Araceae, or Aroid family, but I still find it a trifle irksome when the names of actual genera are used as common names for plants not in those genera. (Pothos is actually the legitimate name of yet another Aroid genus, which doesn't particularly resemble Epipremnum, Scindapsus, or Philodendron, and isn't sold as a houseplant.) My husband is probably doing a headdesk right now, as he finds my use of Latin names in this blog excessively formal at the best of times. Sorry, sweetheart.

Here are the pictures:

Cuttings of Scindapsus pictus argyraeus, commonly called Satin Pothos. I no longer have the parent plant, but these cuttings have been going along fine in water for a while now.

I have seen this plant referred to as Scindapsus pictus argyraeus with adult foliage and as Scindapsus siamense. Though all the pictures open larger when clicked, this one benefits the most.

Close up of a leaf from the previous plant

Just to muddy the waters a bit, I'd thought I'd post a picture of a plant I bought recently that was mislabled by Exotic Angel as Scindapsus pictus/Silver Philodendron:

This is a juvenile Philodendron brandtianum

I think this shot shows its growth habit, which closely resembles Philodendron hederaceum

In Praise of Pothos

The first indoor plants I can remember belonged to my grandmother. After my parents separated, my mother and I lived with my grandparents from when I was about two until I was 13. Nana had a Begonia or two, some sort of palm, a Syngonium she referred to as “elephant ears” and some other plants I don’t remember well enough to identify. But what she had the most of was Epipremnum aureum, most commonly referred to as “golden pothos.” My grandmother, like many people, called these “Philodendrons” even though they aren’t. (If you want to be able to tell the difference, check out this post at Plants are the Strangest People.) She shared cuttings with me when I first showed interest in houseplants as a child, and it has been rare that I haven’t had at least one pothos in my collection since then.

Even so, there was a brief period in my plant-growing life when I thought of pothos as being a bit too common. This was probably a result of seeing too many lackluster, somewhat neglected plants. What snapped me out of this Epipremnum ennui was coming across a bunch of healthy, strongly variegated plants on display in a plant shop. (This was the last store I remember seeing that was totally devoted to selling houseplants. While such stores were not uncommon in the 1970s, they were almost unheard of in 1991, when this one went out of business.) Seeing pothos with fresh eyes, I came to appreciate their versatility and beauty once again.

I far prefer pothos to heart-leaf Philodendrons (P. hederaceum) which are also nice, but common plants. I find pothos more forgiving of various less-than-optimum conditions, including low light levels, erratic watering and getting chilled. (Pothos plants don’t like those things, but I think they bounce back better if exposed to them.) In my experience, cuttings from Pothos roots faster, and the plants produced from the cuttings seem to become more vigorous sooner. It has also been my experience that if you don’t let a Philo climb, its new leaves get smaller and smaller, even in good light. While pothos leaves tend to be larger if they are allowed to either climb or just grow horizontally on a surface, they also maintain a decent size if grown as a hanging plant.

So pothos is easy to care for, even in adverse situations. That is why they seem to be the hanging plant of choice in public spaces. Two years ago, I worked for a couple of months as a plant care technician for a large interiorscape company. For a variety of reasons, this job did not work out for me, but I did learn a few things, especially about the popularity and durability of pothos as an office plant. It was a rare account on my route that didn’t have at least one pothos, and most had several. A couple of the larger companies had hundreds of them. By contrast, there were exactly three Philodendron hederaceum plants on my entire route. I learned that pothos responds much better to a good pruning than I had imagined. It will fill out, and produce more than one growing point, instead of just restarting the vine from the edge of the cut stem. I also learned that the yellowing of pothos leaves can be caused by over watering, but just as frequently, yellowed leaves will be the result of allowing a plant to go dry enough to wilt. Even if this wilting is followed by a good watering, more than a few of the leaves will yellow, rather than recover. I do admit that I’ve never seen a Philo respond that way, so there is a point in their favor.

Epipremnum aureum varieties I own:

Golden Pothos: This is the one most often grown, and the most durable. Grown in very low-light, the variegation becomes more muted, but does not disappear altogether. The green coloring also loses some of its richness. This is the plant most likely to be seen as boring, but the variegation on a plant grown in good light is a thing of beauty.

Epipremnum aureum

Neon Pothos: I grew these from cuttings obtained during the above-mentioned foray into professional plant care. (If a plant needed pruning, the cuttings, which, at the end of the day, could number in the thousands, were just thrown away. So if a tech wanted to, he/she could keep a few to propagate. We also gave them away to any office worker who asked, as long as they were healthy and pest-free. ) This is a variety that I expected to be fussy. Not so; I find it to be a vigorous grower. Too much direct sun will cause it to have a bleached yellow appearance, while strong but indirect lighting brings out the pretty chartreuse tones. I have noticed that the cuttings can be a bit harder to root than those of the other pothos varieties, with the stems occasionally rotting before roots can form.

Epipremnum aureum 'Neon'

Marble Queen: Probably my favorite, as I am especially fond of plants with white variegation in general. It does grow a bit more slowly than golden pothos and seems more susceptible to cold damage and to fungal diseases.

Epipremnum aureum ‘Marble Queen’
This is a close-up of the leaves of my larger plant.

My smaller Epipremnum aureum ‘Marble Queen’
You can see an all-green shoot on the left.

Jade Pothos: In my experience, this is not the result of a golden pothos grown in insufficient light, as some believe. As mentioned above, such plants are more likely to become muted and dull than to achieve the rich, unvariegated dark-green color characteristic of this plant. Rather, jade pothos seems to be derived from Epipremnum aureum 'Marble Queen,' which is inclined to put out all-green shoots from time to time. That is how I obtained my plant, pictured below. I cut back and propagated any all-green shoots that developed on my two Marble Queens. These shoots didn’t seem to be a result of low light, since the plants in question are in sufficient light, and put out plenty of variegated shoots. Not only that, but the Jade is in the same or better light, and it remains all green. If the green color was the result of a light issue, I’d expect to see some variegation recur when the light is increased. The all-green plant also grows much more quickly and robustly than its variegated parents, which is to be expected.

Epipremnum aureum 'Jade Pothos'

Epipremnum ‘N’Joy’: When I first saw this new cultivar, I thought it would be fussy and slow growing, since in my opinion, the variegation and bumpy leaf texture resembles a viral mutation not unlike that of Spathiphyllum ‘Domino,’ the variegated peace lily. Well, 'N'Joy' does grow slightly more slowly than golden pothos, but it is by no means fussy. I’ve had this plant since early summer 2009. If it keeps going like it has been, it may replace marble queen as my favorite.

Two views of Epipremnum 'N' Joy': the whole plant and a closer shot of the leaves

From Last Summer's Garden

Life has been a trifle hectic here among the leaves, so in lieu of a more substantive post, I thought I'd share some of my favorite flower close-ups from my outdoor garden. I grew the Echinaceas, Balloon Flowers, Cosmos, and Rudbeckias myself from seed.

Echinacea purpurea 'White Swan'

Rudbeckia hirta 'Prairie Sun'
These were my favorites from my garden last summer

NoId Hemerocallis (Daylily)

Asclepias tuberosa (Butterfly weed)

Cosmos bipinnatus

Another Hemerocallis

Echinacea purpurea

Platycodon grandiflorus (Balloon flower)

Yet another Hemerocallis

Platycodon grandiflorus (Double Balloon Flower)

Tune in tomorrow for a return to houseplant posts.