Monday Macro: Hedera helix

I haven't posted about my ivies for some time, with good reason. I've downsized my collection considerably. I've found it impossible to keep spider mites at bay if I have to monitor more than five or six Hedera helix plants, so that's what I have now. Finding spider mites on a nearby Hoya, of all things, was the last straw.

Despite the trouble they've caused, I still think Hedera varieties are among the most beautiful plants that one can grow in the home. I think this is a good example:

Hedera helix 'Minty,' also known as Hedera helix 'Mint Kolibri.' This is one of the plants that I lost, and one of the few I will replace if/when I come across another one.

This photo is a little less macro than most, since it is not all that large when opened to full size. But doing so (two clicks) will reveal the beautiful pattern of the leaves.

Sometimes, Laziness Pays Off

Last year, I bought two unidentified Phalaenopsis orchids on clearance. One had yellow flowers, the other had flowers in a multicolored pink/peach pattern. The flowers lasted for months, and after the show was over, I left the flower stalks on the plant. This wasn't because I was hoping that they'd bloom again on those stalks, as I've never had that happen with any of the Phals I've owned previously. I just didn't get around to it. I figured I'd cut them off once they started to turn brown. But that never happened; they stayed firm and green, and did nothing, until recently, when one did this:

NoId Phalaenopsis blooming on old flower stalk. I never even removed the old stake.

Flower and bud up close

And the other one did this:

New branch on old flower stalk

Closer view of the new branch, with what I hope are new flower buds. Again, I had never bothered to remove the old support.

Orchids are still a bit of a mystery to me. I pamper them, and they die. I ignore them, and they surprise me with flowers and growth.

If it's July, Then That Must be a Monstera--Announcing the Debut of Life Among the Leaves Calendars

Every once and a while, when going through the photographs I've taken for the blog, I've thought that it would be nice to be able to preserve them in some other form. So I decided to take some of my favorites, and turn them into calendars for myself. This worked out pretty well, so I thought that it would be nice make them available to anyone else who might be interested. I'm offering two calendars for sale, one featuring tropical houseplants, the other featuring cacti and succulents. There are two separate links because Cafe Press doesn't allow more than one of the same style of item in their basic shops, so I made two shops, one for each plant group. In the future, I may offer other merchandise besides the calendars.

Cover of the Houseplant Calendar

Cover of the Cactus and Succulent Calendar

The links in the photo captions go directly to my shops, and there are permanent links in the sidebar of the blog.

Plant Reminiscences, Part 2: The Bratty Years

I might have left the impression in my last "Reminiscence" post that all my childhood experiences with houseplants were sweet and heartwarming. Not necessarily.

I was a shy and quiet little kid, but that doesn't mean that I didn't have a bratty streak. Sometimes, when I was bored, I used to experiment with plants. In this case "experiment" is a euphemism for "mutilate." I used to scrape the surface of the brown lower stems of Ficus elastica with my fingernails to see the green flesh underneath. I also enjoyed scraping those "funny brown bumps" (nascent aerial roots) off my grandmother's Epipremnum aureum plants.

Epipremnum aureum leaf. Since Pothos is mentioned in most of the anecdotes, it seems only right to illustrate this post with pictures of them.

E. aureum plants were a frequent subject of my experiments, probably because there were so many of them at my house. I actually related one incident in the comments of Mr. Subjunctive's excellent Plant Toxicity series at Plants Are the Strangest People. In this case, the experiment, though damaging to the plant, actually had the potential to damage me. When I was maybe seven or so, I decided, for whatever reason kids decide such things, to remove and chew on a couple of Epipremnum leaves. I think I was playing some sort of survival game with myself, where I was stranded in the jungle and had to survive on leaves. I experienced a mildly painful tingling/numbing sensation in my mouth, from the calcium oxalate crystals all plants in the Araceae family contain to a greater or lesser degree. It was enough to make me stop chewing the leaves then, but somehow, not bad enough for me not to do the same thing a few weeks later. I think I didn't actually associate the unpleasant sensations with chewing on the leaves. ( It's hard to believe that I was generally considered to be a smart kid.) After experiencing the tingling/numbing a second time, I did recognize that there was a cause/effect going on, and never did it again. Fortunately, I didn't experience anything worse from this little adventure.

Then when I was about eight, I decided I wanted a houseplant of my own. And no, potting up a cutting from one of my grandmother's many Pothos would not do. I wanted something different. So Nana took me to Woolworth's and we picked out a plant for me. It was an Aroid of some type. It resembled a Philodendron hederaceum, and maybe it was, but in my memory, it had a slightly more upright growth habit. Maybe it was a very juvenile Monstera deliciosa.

Epipremnum aureum 'Marble Queen'

At any rate, I took good care of of my plant for a while. But my bedroom was not very bright, and my plant didn't seem to be growing much. So I got bored with it. One day, I decide to see what would happen if I trimmed the edges of the leaves of the plant. I trimmed very carefully, following the shape of the leaves. (Well as carefully as I could; I was clumsy with scissors back them. I still am today; I can't cut a straight line to save my life.) As one would expect, this left all the leaves with brown edges. And I lost interest in the plant totally, because it was no longer perfect. This is a far cry from today, when I have a tendency to hold onto ugly or ailing plants long after any sensible person would throw them out.

Epipremnum aureum growing on a pole made of floral foam covered with sphagnum moss and stuffed into a wire framework. The plant is not so much growing on the pole as it is pinned to the pole. It is impossible to keep the pole moist without over-saturating the soil. Still the whole thing is more than five feet tall, and looks pretty good.

My next reminscence post will likely cover my teen years, when my real interest in houseplants began.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who are celebrating it. Happy Thursday to everyone.

I Missed One--Blooming Jade

When I was photographing plants for bloom day this past Monday, I forgot to take pictures of one of the plants I really wanted to share.

I'm not completely sure which Crassula species this plant belongs to, but I believe that it is some form of Crassula arborescens, maybe C. arborescens 'Blue Bird.'

Blooming Crassula variety. The flowers were washed out quite a bit by the flash.

Not very clear shot showing the pink color of the petals. After several attempts at photographing these flowers, it seemed that I could achieve color, or clarity, but not both.

Whole plant

I have several Jade plants, which I love, and grow, for their foliage and form. I love flowers as much as the next person, but they are almost always secondary for me as an indoor plant grower. The plants I grow strictly for flowers, like Hibiscus, Hippeastrum, and jungle cacti, are the exceptions that prove the rule.

But Crassula ovata and Crassula arborescens are reluctant bloomers in home culture, so it is a little exciting when they do so. My Crassula ovata 'Gollum' flowered during November a couple of years ago. It is a large plant, and there was one tiny flower cluster on one branch.

Crassula ovata 'Gollum' blooms from November of '08. The flowers were white, and I had a hard time capturing a clear picture with my old camera.

Crassula ovata 'Gollum' whole plant, photographed in November 2009

I realize that even though my love for foliage is the primary reason I choose and grow plants, a lot of my blog posts focus on flowers. That is probably for two reasons. The first is that flowers are photogenic (mostly--I've already demonstrated in this post that getting good shots of them is sometimes problematic.) The second is that flowers demonstrate a plant doing something. Sometimes it is hard to come up with something to write about if your subjects just sit around not doing anything. You know, like houseplants.

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day, November 2010

My goodness, I actually remembered this time. Here is what's blooming in my home and garden on this lovely November 15. And yes, it actually is lovely. Sunny and around 50F. Crisp leaves underfoot. I'm learning to appreciate autumn for what it is, rather than imbuing it with a sense of dread and doom as winter approaches.

Indoors first, since this is a houseplant blog:

Hibiscus rosa-sinensis, unidentified cultivar

Aloe greenii x lineata

Crassula lactea

Three views of Echeveria 'Black Prince.' First the whole plant with bloom stalk, then a closeup of the blooming rosette, then the flowers themselves.

Now for the outdoors. We've had a mild November for the most part, but we've had our frosts at night. Most of the garden has gone to sleep, but there are a couple of things hanging on, and one thing, at least, freshly emerged for the season.

Gaillardia x grandiflora 'Dazzler.' This late planting is still hanging on, well past its usual blooming season.

Mums among the leaves. These Chrysanthemums are past their prime, and a touch frostbitten, but still pretty.

Newly emerged Autumn Crocus. (Crocus pulchellus, I think.) I planted a few earlier this season, and amazingly, the squirrels didn't get them all.

Happy Bloom Day, every day.

Plant Reminiscences, Part 1

The first Plant Lady I ever knew was my maternal grandmother, Lillian Brown. My mother and I lived with her for many years after my parents separated. She didn't own a lot of plants, say a dozen or so. But her fondness for houseplants is very much a part of what I remember, when I think of her.

Hippeastrum 'Lilian' When I saw the name, I just had to buy this Amaryllis in honor of my grandmother. She did spell her name "Lillian," however.

It's funny though, that except for the several pothos, (Epipremnum aureum) I don't remember very clearly what those dozen plants were. Nana's house wasn't very sunny, so her plants were those that accepted less than ideal conditions with grace. Much like Nana did, throughout a rather complicated and difficult life.

A look at Google maps indicates that the suitable plant windows faced southwest and northeast, which, on the face of it, are decent exposures for growing. However, I recall that the windows were obstructed considerably by trees and nearby buildings. As for the rest of the plants, there was a small palm, I know, and a green Syngonium, which she later gave to me when I was a teen and no longer living with her. There was something with a bit of a trunk, maybe a Polyscias balfouriana. There were Begonias, I'm sure, and a plant that I can't identify. I always thought I'd know it when I saw it, but I've seen hundreds of houseplants, both in person and pictures, and I've never come across it. All I recall is that stems were surrounded by the leaves, something like a Crassula perforata, but it wasn't a succulent.

Another view of Hippeastrum 'Lilian' showing the whole plant. The flowers are small and dainty, unlike many Hippeastrum cultivars. My grandmother wasn't a particularly small woman, but she had a delicateness in her demeanor that belied her inner strength.

Nana worked very hard, both as a cleaning lady for several clients, and in taking care of our home. She also spent a lot of time taking care of me, while my mother worked and pursued a social life. So she didn't have a lot of time to devote to plant care. But her plants were always well watered, well groomed, well loved. Every summer, the plants would line the edges of our tiny front porch, soaking up the sunshine. When I was little, my mother and I would sometimes try to add to the plant collection, usually with disastrous results. Either we'd buy something totally unsuitable for the conditions, or something no one knew how to take care of. One such gift was a magnificent Caladium bicolor 'Candidum.' None of us knew that it was supposed to die back at the end of the season, and that it could be regrown from its tubers in the spring. So we all watched with dismay as the huge leaves withered and died over several weeks.

I was holding a camera at an odd angle when I took this picture. On one hand, it is vertigo-inducing. On the other had, it shows the actual color of the flowers well, so I decided to include it.

A happier memory I have is of planting apple and orange seeds together, in old margarine containers, just to see what would happen. I would have been about seven, I guess. Nana chose oranges and I chose apples. I was thrilled when the orange seeds sprouted, and a bit disappointed when the apples never did. But is was something we enjoyed together. We were a lot alike in many ways.

Nana died in 1978, about a month before my eighteenth birthday. People sometimes said that I looked just like her, and I always wondered why, since our facial features were not particularly similar. But then, years later, I saw myself on video, about a half hour's worth. I noticed that I have most of her general mannerisms, from my posture to the way I walk to the gestures I make with my hands. Even with dissimilar features, my facial expressions also echo hers to a surprising degree. And of course, we are both Plant Ladies.

Trying Again

In October 2009, in a post entitled Never Again List, I wrote the following:

"Sansevieria trifasciata ‘Hahnii' (any variety) I suppose it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. And I do love these, but from now on it will be from afar. It just hurts too much. Much more sensitive to watering issues than the taller S. trifasciatas. While overwatering will kill them quickly, moderate watering seems to kill them slowly. Every single one I’ve had has rotted, no matter how careful I am."

Well, apparently "never" has a new definition, i.e. "yesterday." Because that is when I purchased the plants pictured here:

Two Sansevieria trifasciata 'Golden Hahnii' plants to the left and another S. trifasciata dwarf variety to the right.

"From afar" apparently has a new definition as well. It means "a few feet from my desk," which is where these are now.

I was in the nursery to see if there were any nice fall bulbs on late-season sale. I had no plans to purchase any houseplants. But a crazy plant lady doesn't need plans or a motive. Just opportunity. These Sansevieria were too nice to pass up. I examined the roots. I examined the centers of each of the rosettes. I tugged gently on the leaves. All was well; no rot, no signs of overwatering or distress. It was warm outside yesterday, in the 60s Fahrenheit, so they didn't catch a chill going from greenhouse to car to home. In other words, if these plants do not succeed, I cannot blame it on the nursery, or the chill of November. It is all up to me.

From the CBG, September and October 2010

Although it is open all year round, I tend not to visit the Chicago Botanic Garden from late fall until the early spring. For one, it is more than an hour's drive away from my home, and I don't care much for driving, even in the best of weather. (As anyone who has experienced one knows, Chicagoland winters do not fall into the category of "the best of weather.")

So these will probably be my last photographs from the CBG for a while.

Views from the Arid Greenhouse, which has been looking very nice lately. They have been sprucing the place up and adding new plants in the last several months.


Here is one of the new plants. The tag reads: Kalanchoe thryrisifolia 'Fantastic.' I really like the white variegation.

On to the Tropical Greenhouse. I have to admit, I'm not a big Cordyline fan. I like pink plants, I like purple plants. But something about the coloration of many of the Cordyline fruticosa varieties I've seen just seems discordant to my eyes. Not this one:

Cordyline fruticosa 'Bolero Bicolor.' This just about took my breath away.

I also like this one. Unfortunately I couldn't fine the identification tag, but I definitely recognize it as a Cordyline.

On to the outdoors. I like Dahlia flowers a lot, but I seldom plant any in my garden, because they seem to be earwig magnets. But I like admiring them elsewhere, and I thought this was both unusual and beautiful:

Dahlia 'Juul's Allstar.' I love the curled petals.

I often end my CBG posts with a picture of some of the ducks that frequent the water garden areas. Here is a something a bit bigger:

Trumpeter swan, (Cygnus buccinator.) The Garden has two pair of these, who apparently live there year round.

This picture is an example of the magic of both zooming and cropping. Though I wasn't very far away, this close would have been too close for comfort. I like my wildlife, especially really large, potentially foul-tempered fowl, at a bit of a distance.

Monday Macro: Gymnocalycium stenopleurum flowers

Oh my, I almost didn't get this done today, which would have been unfortunate. "Tuesday Macro" doesn't have quite the same ring to it, now does it?

Last fall, I posted about my Gymnocalycium stenopleurum, which had produced a large, lovely pink flower. Since then, I've learned that G. stenopleurum is a synonym for Gymnocalycium mihanovichii subsp. friedrichii, which is such a long name for such a petite plant. It also bloomed again this summer, but I missed getting a picture of the fully opened flower that time.

Gymnocalycium flower. Opening the photo to its full size highlights the sparkle of the petals.

Here's a reminder of what the whole plant looks like:

Gymnocalycium stenopleurum, aka Gymnocalycium mihanovichii subsp. friedrichii

The body of the plant is purplish, but has enough chlorophyll to survive on its own, unlike its relatives, the oft-seen grafted red and yellow Gymnocalycium mihanovichii varieties.