Bird of Paradise, and Art Among the Leaves

I own two Bird-of-Paradise plants, one Strelitzia nicolai, aka White Bird of Paradise, named for its white flowers, and Strelitzia reginae, which has the more familiar orange flowers. Because they are indoor plants, I do not expect to see them flower anytime soon. The brightest light I can provide for them indoors is bright enough for them to grow nice foliage, but I'm sure that it is not bright enough for blooming.

Previously posted picture of my Strelitzia reginae. I grew this from seed in 2003 or 2004, so I suppose it is still a bit immature for blooming, even if I had better light for it. This is the first season I didn't put it outside for the summer. I plan to do so in the future, as I believe that is the best way to induce it to flower, if indeed it ever will.

Strelitzia nicolai, center. As I understand it, these almost never flower in the home, regardless of conditions, but are great foliage plants. Peppermint (bottom right) finds it, like all plants, unworthy of his interest.

But even if my plants refuse to cooperate, I do get to enjoy one Strelitzia flower in my home:

Bird in Paradise, 1996, by my husband Bob. The flower was drawn from life; the background landscape is drawn from his imagination.

When we first got together, Bob had this colored-pencil work in storage in the basement, as for some reason, he wasn't particularly fond of it. But I loved it from the first time I saw it, so he had it matted and framed, and now it hangs outside the door to our bedroom, in our upstairs hallway. Our home is filled with his artwork, and my plants, and I love it when they complement each other in this way.

And this past week, I finally got to see a blooming BOP plant in person. A specimen in the Chicago Botanic Gardens Tropical Greenhouse had a solitary bloom.

Strelitzia reginae flower. Though I have seen them in tropical bouquets, this is the first time I've seen one attached to a plant.

Full plant from the CBG. Much taller than my S. reginae, but much shorter than my S. nicolai.

More of Bob's artwork can be seen here, on our family website. A post featuring his stained glass work, juxtaposed with my houseplants, can be found by clicking the "Art" label at the end of this post.

Art Among the Leaves

As I mentioned in my post, "Eye of the Beholder" my husband Bob is an artist. One medium at which he excels is stained glass. I'm proud to have had some of my plants serve as inspiration for his work:

Hippeastrum 'Charisma' (Amaryllis)

Bob's Amaryllis panel

A really large leaf from my Monstera deliciosa

Bob's Monstera leaf panel

Anthurium 'Oklahoma'

Anthurium: my favorite of Bob's panels

The Amaryllis and Anthurium panels are 2/3s of a triptych in our kitchen hutch. The third panel is of a vase of poppies (Papaver species) which I may feature this coming summer, if the poppies I planted survive and bloom. The Monstera panel, which was made especially for me, (thanks, sweetheart) hangs in the pass-through between our kitchen and living room.

If you would like to see more of Bob's artwork (and several photographs of my plants) you can visit our family website.

Eye of the Beholder

Yes, that is what is peeking out at you, here from behind the leaves.

Originally, this post started out in an entirely different way. I was planning to confess that I am a bit of a plant snob. Not the kind that avoids commonly grown plants. I love Epipremnum (pothos), Sansevierias and most Dracaenas just as much as I love the rare and the unusual. Rather, I was going to say that I’m the type of person who has high standards regarding the appearance of plants, both mine and other people’s. I was going to say that on occasion, when people on plant forums would proudly post pictures of their plants, and others would praise them, I would wonder: “That is what other people consider to be good-looking plants? Really?” Many of them seemed to me to needed pruning, or grooming, or more suitable pots, or, most commonly, a lot more light than they were getting.

Just this weekend, something happened to change that. I had an exchange with someone who has really high standards for plants, and I found myself defending, (more in my mind than in the exchange itself) the beauty found in all plants, whether they are show-worthy specimens or not. The true joy I find in plants is in growing them, tending them, learning their likes and dislikes, and feeling a connection with living things–not in producing a perfect specimen. When I look at a landscape, I see a vista of pure beauty, not the flaws of each individual plant.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not going abandon all standards and discernment. Plants should be healthy, and I love looking at exceptionally well grown show plants. I love it when one of my plants looks really healthy and pretty. I’m definitely going to hold with my opinion that getting them into more light would do a lot of people’s plants a world of good. But I am going to try to be more open and encouraging, and less snobbish in my outlook.

A plant of mine that I'm proud of: Monstera deliciosa

I’m also going to work on being more forgiving of myself when my own plants don’t live up to my standards. A couple of years ago, my husband wanted a plant for his office. We decided that a Sansevieria trifasciata would do well in his conditions, and I assumed that we would buy one. But what Bob really wanted was one of my plants, and he chose this one:

This Sansevieria trifasciata 'Laurentii' has been in Bob's office for almost two years

A view showing the plant, and Bob's artwork. Left to right: drawing of a Red-Shouldered Hawk, painting of an American Kestrel and a drawing of a Broad Winged Hawk

It is certainly not my best Sansevieria. The leaves are healthy, but the growth is kind of sparse. It’s okay, but it isn’t a plant I’m proud of, exactly. But what surprised me most is how many compliments he received from his coworkers. And the great pride he took in telling them that the plant was one of my “rejects.” Apparently other people are way ahead of me in seeing beauty in something green and living. And even more special, the love of my life thinks that I have a gift with plants, and he is proud of that.

This post has meandered a bit, and I attribute that to the rather pensive mood I’ve been in for a couple of days. (I also suspect that I’m coming down with something.) But for me writing this has been an exercise trying to discover how to combine a discerning eye with an appreciation of the imperfect here in my life among the leaves.

A bit of imperfection: Some of the ivy leaves have mite damage. I was a trifle embarrassed by that when I posted a different version of this picture last week. However, the cat wants you to know that he is, in fact, perfection itself.

Edited to add: The pictures of Bob's work plant were taken by Bob himself. Thanks, sweetheart.