How Will You Make it On Your Own? Degrafting a Euphorbia

Several years ago, I purchased this crested Euphorbia lactea, which I think is the cultivar E. lactea 'White Ghost.'  Since this plant has enough green growth, i.e., chlorophyll, to survive on its own, I assume it was grafted to help promote faster growth. Both crests and variegated plants can be rather slow-growing if left to their own devices.  Whatever the reason, I've never been fond of grafted plants, but since I wanted a white Euphorbia really badly, I accepted this marriage of convenience.

Euphorbia lactea crest scion grafted onto an unknown (to me) Euphorbia stock

But just as it did for Mary Richards, (the title of this post is from The Mary Tyler Moore Show season one theme song) the time came for this plant to break free from its ill-suited union (an engagement in Mary's case) and put down roots of its own.  It even showed me the roots:

Close-up of roots formed by the Euphorbia lactea scion, independent of its host

So I set to work with my knife and pruners, as well as safety glasses and gloves, to protect myself from the potentially caustic sap that the genus Euphorbia is known for.

The patient, prepped for surgery, along with a pot of well-draining potting mix for the severed scion.

I made the first cut straight through the rootstock plant, as close to the scion (the E. lactea) as possible.

Severed scion.  Note the white foamy sap on the cut edge of the rootstock

Another view

I then used my knife and pruners to cut away as much of the stock tissue as I could.  Since I am not experienced with grafting or degrafting plants, I didn't want to attempt actually separating the two plants.  I was afraid I might damage my crest.

Euphorbia scion with as much of the green tissue from the rootstock pared away as I could manage.

Finally, after letting the stump dry a bit, I potted up my newly independent Euphorbia:

Euphorbia lactea 'White Ghost', free at last

 And as for the poor rejected rootstock?  I'm going to keep it and see what happens. I have no idea what kind of Euphorbia it might be, but now that it's free, it could turn into a star in its own right.

The NoID Euphorbia rootstock, potted on its own

They both might just make it after all!

Time to Prune the Hibiscus

Every year around this time, I have to make a decision regarding my Hibiscus rosa-sinensis plants: To prune or not to prune. Pruning this early in the year will insure that they will recover enough to start blooming in late spring/early summer. Although it is generally considered unwise to prune houseplants while the days are short and the sun is still relatively weak, I haven't experienced any problems in that regard. Once the plants get going again, the foliage growth is quite vigorous.

Last week, my orange-flowered cultivar was still blooming. And I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there was an tag buried in the soil. I bought this plant last summer, assuming it would be a NoId.

Hibiscus rosa-sinensis 'Carolina Breeze'


The full H. rosa-sinensis 'Carolina Breeze' plant. It has a couple of unopened buds that will probably bloom during the next week.

I have decided, even though it has lost a bit of foliage due to underwatering, (bad Karen; bad, bad Karen) not to prune this one this year. That means that it is likely to need it done next January.

That brings me to my next two plants. I did not prune them last year, so they are due now.

Second Hibiscus rosa-sinensis plant before pruning. Because they are unlabeled, I am not sure whether this is the red-flowered plant, or the yellow-flowered plant.

This plant was not looking bad, so I pruned it conservatively.

The same plant as the one immediately above, post pruning. I expect it to leaf out nicely.

This third plant is another story. The soil got so dried out that many of the leaves became too dessicated to recover. This most likely because it is underpotted and because it, like all the Hibiscus, is in the spare bedroom, which I don't visit every day. Add this to my less-is-more watering style, and it turned into a recipe for disaster.

Third plant, pre-pruning. Note the lengths of bare stem between the top and bottom growth.

Another view of a bare stem. This was originally covered with leaves.

All is not lost; there is already new growth appearing along the stem.

Same plant post pruning

I also have a fourth Hibiscus, with double peach flowers. That one was drastically pruned last year, after having been attacked by Japanese beetles in summer 2008. After being cut down to nothing, it rewarded me with vigorous growth and beautiful flowers, as seen in the first photograph of this post. I hope my other plants will do the same this summer. I vow to be a better plant parent and keep up with the watering.

Edited to add at 4:30PM on 1/8/10: Be sure to click the first photo to see it enlarged. It is definitely worth it!

Plant Burnout

Every year it seems, I come to a point where I am a bit burned out on caring for my houseplants. I don't imagine that this is much of a problem for those sensible folk who have a plant or two or ten. But for us obsessive houseplant lovers with thee-digit collections, this can be devastating to both one's morale and for the health of the plants. I feel down and overwhelmed, so I slack off a bit on plant care. (I let things go a bit too long between watering; I don't check for pests; I skip routine grooming; stuff like that.) Because I've slacked off, the plants start to suffer, (they wilt; pests appear; the plants look messy) so I feel even more down and even more overwhelmed. It becomes a bit of a vicious circle.

Phalaenopsis and Pelargonium flowers. Photo is for decorative purposes only, as it doesn't really relate to the content of this post.

In order to keep this from happening, or at least not let things get too bad, I've started to look for causes and cures.

Some causes

1. I have too many plants. Well, this is the major issue. I fully admit that I have too many plants indoors in the wintertime. Succulents make up one third of my collection, and most of them spend the warm months outdoors. Taking care of them outdoors is a breeze; they can be watered en masse with the hose, if they need watering at all, and just being outside in the summer is a pleasure for me. Indoors, they add a lot of time and effort to my routine, and my house looks overcrowded. Since, so far, I have not been prepared to significantly reduce the numbers of plants, I know that this something I just have to handle with the best grace I can.
2. I have too many high-maintenance plants. While this is not the case right now, having to deal with large numbers of fussy plants that need special treatment (temperatures other than normal household temps, frequent watering, high humidity) has driven me to despair in the past.
3. I have large tasks that need to be done all at once. One example of such a task is when a sudden dip in temperatures in the fall leaves me compelled to bring all plants that have been outdoors back in at once. Making a mad scramble to get things in, making sure that they are free of outdoor insects, and finding a place for everything can wear me down and make me wonder why I bother at all.
4. I have non-plant related sources of stress. Sometimes things don't go well in life. Personal problems of all kinds can sap my energy and make plant chores the last thing I feel like doing.

Some cures

1. I give myself permission to be imperfect. Not all my plants are going to look beautiful all the time. Everything has its ups and downs. I remind myself that most plant tasks can be postponed for a few days without serious consequences. But even if such consequences occur, I am not a bad person if a plant suffers a setback or even it one dies.
2. I give myself permission to throw plants away. If a plant is struggling and it will take more time, effort, and valuable growing space than I think it is worth to save it, it is okay to throw it away. If a plant is buggy, and it will take major work to eliminate the infestation (and there is always a risk that it will spread) it is okay to throw it away. If I just plain don't like a plant, for whatever reason, it is okay to throw it away. Really. Allowing myself to do this has probably been the biggest plant-related stress reliever of them all.
3. I revel in my easy-care plants. Most collectors have a plant or two that looks great no matter what. Barring that, there is probably a plant that looks great right now. I try to enjoy that plant to the fullest. If I can do so without upsetting it, I move it to a prominent spot where I and others can appreciate its beauty. It reminds me why I love plants, that they are a joy, not a burden. That leads me to the following:
4. Relax. I try to make caring for my plants a relaxing activity. I remind myself that this is a hobby I chose because I enjoy it.

By the way, this post was not motivated because I am suffering burnout right now. While I do find this time of year a mite stressful as a plant hobbyist, because these darkest days of winter can be stressful for the plants, I am actually quite happy with the way things are going these days.

A belated Happy Solstice to everyone. Things can only get brighter from here on!

Asparagus Adventure

Six years ago, I was browsing through one of the local nurseries and came upon a plant I had always wanted, Asparagus densiflorus meyersii, aka Foxtail “Fern.” I purchased it, and it grew vigorously for me. I usually placed Foxy outside in the summer, and would make it part of a container arrangement. The first year, I put it in a pot with an Iresine herbstii, and some red Impatiens. The next year it was much bigger, and I surrounded it with Dahlias. As it grew bigger I just used it by itself.

Foxy with Ivy wreath, 2008

After a certain point though, the damn thing got huge. Gorgeous, but huge. It was always a struggle to bring Foxy back inside. Last year, after being moved to a 20-inch pot, it was so heavy that we could no longer carry it upstairs to the spare bedroom. That room had the optimum conditions for it; it was bright and, more importantly, cool. (We keep the rest of the house rather warm.) So Foxy spent the winter in my living room, where it shed cladodes (the proper name for the needle-like foliage) like crazy.

So this year when I put it outside, I decided I would leave it there in the fall, and let the frost get it. (Actually, I’d have to let a hard freeze get it; Asparagus ferns are quite hardy.) I even bought a (small) replacement for it.

Foxy on Saturday, before I got started

But a freeze is forecast for tonight, and I had a change of heart. So I decided to do what I had to do to get it inside.

Tools used during this little adventure:
Big saw, little saw, trowel, fork, pruners, and dowel

First, I examined the plant and trimmed off all the dead fronds and those with bare stems at their bases. Then I placed the pot on its side, and removed as much soil as possible, using the trowel. I then plunged the fork into the pot, and rocked it back and forth as much as possible, which wasn’t much.

View of some of the unsightly fronds before pruning

First round of trimmings

I tried to get the plant out of the pot. It wouldn’t budge. Okay, Plan B. I dig around and remove more loose soil. I then attempt to move the root ball by pushing the dowel through the drainage hole. It wouldn’t budge.

Okay, Plan C. Since I planned to severely prune the root ball anyway, I ask my husband, Bob, if he has any long thin handsaws. Of course he does. Woodworking is one of his hobbies, and he has lots of tools of almost every description. He shows me the small saw pictured second from the left, above, and the wider saw. I tell him the ideal would be something as narrow as the small saw, but as long as the wider saw. He didn’t have anything like that, so I took what he had. I sawed around the inside of the pot with the small saw to get started, then used the large saw. I put the pot back on its side, and pulled. Still wouldn’t budge. I called Bob for help. I figured that I could pull on the plant, while he stood on the other side and pulled on the pot. We tried it. Still wouldn’t budge. Bob suggests that maybe we could just cut the pot apart. In addition to hand tools, he has lots of power tools, and he loves to use them. I decided that I didn’t want to do that, since it’s a fiberglass pot, and fiberglass is not a pleasant material to deal with.

So he took the handsaw and sawed around the inside of the pot again for me, getting deeper than I had before. The plant still won’t budge. I thanked Bob for his help, and he went back inside. Just then, I have a moment of inspiration born of frustration. I decide to put the pot on its side again, and bang it against the walkway. Amazingly, there is movement. I turn the pot around, and bang it again. More movement. A strong pull, and the plant is out of the pot.

Out of the pot, at last

Next chore is to saw off a large section from the bottom of the rootball. Asparagus roots are tough, I’m pretty sure they can take it.

Severed rootball. Oh the humanity! (Or plantaceaity, or something)

Original pot, plus round pot I was going to use.
It is the same size (14") as the square pot I ended up with.

The next step is to fit the plant in a new, smaller pot. I lift the plant. Too wide for the pot. I saw off some roots on the sides. Still too wide for the pot. I saw some more. At this point, if there were anything to the notion of plant perception, (link to the wonderful series by mr._subjuntive at PATSP) I would be charged with violating the Geneva convention. But it was still too wide for the pot. Also, at this point, all this manipulation had caused several of the healthy fronds to break off. I knew I would have to prune off some more top growth, to balance all the root hacking, excuse me, pruning, I was doing. I had wanted to be a bit more selective, however. C’est la vie. Finally, with a little more sawing, and some clipping, and a lot of huffing and puffing, I get the plant into its new pot.

In the new pot, ready to go inside

After all this, I hope Foxy survives my attempt to save it.

I’ll keep you posted.