Replacing: Always, Sometimes, Never

As much as I love buying plants I've never tried before, I find more and more that my plant shopping is focused on replacements.  Plants that I've had, loved and lost.  Whether I made cultural gaffes, or the plant was lost to pests, I am eager to try these plants again:

Aglaonema 'Peacock' and Aglaonema 'Cory': I've come to the conclusion that I'm just not good with Aglaonemas. I don't know why; they are supposedly easy plants.  My mother, who insisted that she was no good with plants, had two that flourished. I inherited them when she died, and managed to kill them too.  Anyway, I would still like to try again with A.'Peacock' and A.'Cory', but these days, no one carries the green, white-stemmed Aglaonemas anymore. I love the red and pink ones as much as the next crazy plant lady, but I'd like to see some of the older varieties on sale.

Alpinia zerumbet 'Variegata': I lost my two plants to scale insects. While I have been able to fight scale and win at least twice, (with my huge ZZ plant and my Monstera deliciosa) I generally don't fool around with it. It's hard to treat and spreads like wildfire. My general rule is that scale-infested plants have got to go.

Begonia 'Cracklin' Rosie': A beautiful plant that did beautifully for years, till all of a sudden, with no change in care, it started to decline and continued until it died. 

Dracaena reflexa 'Song of India': I lost one to cultural mistakes, (not enough light, inconsistent watering) and another to the dreaded scale.  The third was very large, and was doing so well until it was attacked by mealybugs. Trying to get them out of the dozens of crevices where the leaves join the stems was impossible. Then the mealybugs attracted ants.  A disaster all around. 

Echeveria (any species or variety:) I lost the bulk of my collection to mealybug. I am slowly but steadily replacing them.

Part of my current collection of Echeveria (and Graptopetalum)

That certain Saintpaulia: The flowers were close to sky blue as possible for an African Violet, and outlined in white.  It has been close to 30 years since I lost it, (I was a complete AV newbie, and I repotted it into too large a pot) and I've never come across anything like it again. This is more than a quest, it is a crusade. I won't rest until I find something that looks like it. 

Then there are the plants that I have sworn to never buy again. I made this list about 9 years ago, and to tell the truth, I find myself wavering on it. Several of these plants have tempted me in recent years, so take the "never" with a grain of salt.

Aphelandra squarrosa: It's been years since I have had one. The memories of constant leaf drop are as fresh as if I tossed my last one yesterday.

Begonia rex: Even the popular "Houseplant Expert" book calls them short-lived. They can live their short lives with someone else.

Calathea, Ctenanthe, Maranta, Stromanthe:  These related genera are not difficult to keep alive, just hard to keep presentable without proper humidity. The edges of the leaves get dry and brown.  Even the Calathea zebrina I saw at the Garfield Park Conservatory had crispy edges

Calathea zebrina at the Garfield Park Conservatory.  Even in their humid enviroment, the leaf edges dry out.

Cissus discolor: Sometimes called the rex begonia vine. Enough said.

Dieffenbachia: Not culturally difficult--I just don't like them much.

Dracaena marginata: See Dieffenbachia.

Lithops: Their care requirements are beyond me, it seems. Since I'm a chronic underwaterer, I doubt that I overwater them. Maybe it was a light issue.  At this point, I don't care to find out.

Monstera obliqua (or M. adansonii, or M. friedrichsthalii): Whatever the actual Latin binomial, those vining swiss-cheese plants are as difficult for me to grow as they are to identify.

Peperomia argyreia and Peperomia caperata: I give them what they are supposed to like, and what do they do? Die, that's what.

Philodendron scandens: Yes, the easy plant that anyone can grow.  For some reason I can't. It's like Aglaonema. I just don't have what it takes. Unlike with the Aglaonemas, I don't care to try again.

Sansevieria trifasciata 'Hahnii' (any  variety): In my opinion, Sanseviera trifasciata in general isn't quite as easy as their reputation suggests.  But I do well with them.  Except the various bird's nest types.  Those seemingly come to my house to die.

Spathiphyllum: Apparently, I can't be trusted with anything that reacts that dramatically to underwatering. 

Well, there are the "always" and "never" lists.  What about the "sometimes" in the title? That list consists of every other houseplant you can imagine. If it's out there, I'll probably try it at some time or another. 

Addendum: Shortly after finishing this post, I went through the archives and discovered that I had posted a version of the never again list previously, shortly after I compiled it in 2009. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Remembering: Cats Among the Leaves

In the five years since I last posted, a lot has happened in my life, both good and bad. The saddest thing, though, is the loss of my cats, Luke and Peppermint.  Luke died in the spring of 2016, just after his 18th birthday.  And Peppermint left us this January, at the age of 17.

I knew I would have to write this post, because Luke and Peppermint have been very much a part of this blog over the years. A look at the "pets" label confirms this. They loved to come investigate when I was doing something with the plants, either some actual tending task, or just moving them around to take a photo.  Each was very sweet in his own way.  Luke was a shy, serious, and reserved little man (except when we broke out the catnip; then he was a total stoner dude).  Peppermint was bold, kittenish even in old age, and affectionate with everyone. They were buddies to each other, and to me and my husband. Rest in peace, guys.

Peppermint hiding out behind some Hedera helix

Karen and Kitty, a portrait of Peppermint and me, by my husband Robert Cairone

Luke peeking out from Hibiscus rosa-sinensis

Lounging in one of their favorite places, the sunroom

Despite these sad losses, we are not cat-less here among the leaves.  Let me introduce you to Lily.  We adopted her three years ago when one of my stepkid's friends needed to re-home some of her pets.  Lily is pretty, active, curious and loving.  She has the adorable habit of sleeping in plant pots.  Here below are photographs of her doing just that, and below that is my husband's striking portrait of her, entitled Jungle Cat.

Here and above: Lily lounging in the pot of a variegated Monstera deliciosa

Jungle Cat, by Robert Cairone

She also follows me around when I care for the plants, especially when I water. (I have a hose that attaches to the kitchen faucet, which is long enough to water every plant in every room of the house. I don't know what I'd do without it. Lily, however, thinks the hose is a toy.) But she is also a plant eater, a problem I've not had with my cats before.  I've caught her nibbling on Hibiscus rosa-sinensis and Saintpaulia leaves. So she bears watching to say the least.

Returning: A Trip to the Garfield Park Conservatory

In the spring of 2011, my husband and I paid a visit to the Garfield Park Conservatory.  Not too long after our visit, a freak hailstorm devastated the conservatory, particularly the Fern Room.  I was devastated myself, as I found the Fern Room to be one of the most magical places I had ever visited. If one needs convincing that ferns and their allies are incredibly beautiful plants, seeing so many varieties in one place should do it.  I love the color green, and I couldn't believe how much variety and impact ferns provide. I was afraid that even with restoration, the place would never be the same.

Well, on Friday we paid another visit, our first since 2011, and I found my fears to be misplaced.  The Conservatory is as gorgeous as ever. Because I've blogged about the conservatory before,  I'll just let the photographs do the talking.

View from the entrance to the conservatory

Below is a series of photos taken in the Fern Room:

Platycerium elephantotis Angola Staghorn Fern

Blechnum gibbum Miniature Tree Fern

The next series is from the Palm House:

I couldn't find a label for this lovely palm

A number of Bromeliads were used as groundcovers below the palms. Above is Neoregelia 'Fireball', below are an unidentified Guzmania cultivar and Neoregelia 'Gazpacho'

From the Desert House:

Eve's Needle, Austrocylindropuntia subulata 'Cristata'

Euphorbia lactea 'Cristata'

Euphorbia enopla

This crested Euphorbia looks almost like a sculpture

From the spring flower show:

I loved seeing all the Azaleas (Rhododendron species and cultivars)  It reminds me of springtime in New York.  They aren't common where I live, probably because the soil is too alkaline.

And finally, because it is good to be blogging again:

Life in front of the leaves: Karen 715

Here's to New Growth in the New Year!

In the 1930s, upon her return to her book review column in the New Yorker after a two-year absence, Dorothy Parker wrote: "Maybe you think I was just out in the ladies' room all this time, but there isn't a word of truth in it."  She was in Switzerland, as she put it, "Getting Away from it all...coupled with a wistful dream of Trying to Forget."

Well, I don't have the excuse that I was touring Europe.  Even though I was metaphorically running away from it all, trying to forget, I was right here, among the leaves, as usual.  I was just lacking the motivation to write.  I've written previously that I struggle with depression, and that it has taken a toll on my feelings towards my plants.  For a long while, I just wasn't experiencing any joy in caring for my plants, and the feeling of deep connection I have had with them seemed lost.

Well, I'm back for another try. If anyone is still out there, and interested, I'm thrilled to have you reading my blog.  If not, I understand.  I've come to realize that blogging can be something I do for myself.

Anyway, something exciting has happened here among the leaves:

The beginning

Step 2

Foolishly, I didn't think to photograph Steps 3 through 1,000,000, but here is the final result:

My brand new sunroom!

I've been wanting a sunroom for my plants since I moved here almost ten years ago, but we didn't have the wherewithal to do it until recently.  I think part of the reason I became disenchanted with caring for my plants was that it was so hard to do so, with them all crammed into every available window and shelf space in the house each fall and winter. Now with the additional space, I can see and appreciate every individual plant, and check on them more easily.

Some pictures of the interior from various angles:

Most of these pictures are only from a few days ago, and I've already been changing things.  I'm hoping these changes with give me lots to write about.

The Gift With Something Extra

Monday, May 2 was my eighth wedding anniversary. My darling husband Bob surprised me with two bouquets of flowers. One was a dozen yellow roses, the other was a lovely mixed arrangement.

Today, when I was about to change the water in the mixed bouquet, I noticed something. Included as foliage accents in the arrangement were two stems of Codiaeum variegatum, aka, Croton. These were not the one of the broadleaf multicolored cultivars, but rather, a narrow-leaved, yellow-spotted type. One of the stems was looking a trifle worse for wear, but the other was very healthy and vigorous.

Mixed bouquet. One of the Codiaeum stems is on the left in this photo.

Close-up of the Codiaeum cutting, still in the vase

Of course, me being the crazy plant lady, I had to take advantage of this. I removed the stem from the bouquet, re-cut the end, and stripped off a few of the bottom leaves. I then dipped the stem in rooting hormone, and placed it in a pot of moist vermiculite to root.

Codiaeum stem in vermiculite. The lovely little pot is an early Mother's Day gift from my stepson, Dave.

Now we will see. I haven't had much luck in the past with rooting Codiaeum cuttings, nor have I had particularly good luck growing Codiaeum plants (spider mites love them.) But if I succeed, it will be a lovely remembrance of this anniversary. Since I know he will read this: Thanks, Honey, for eight wonderful years!

When the Growth Stopped

As I've mentioned before, I picked "growing along with my houseplants" as the subtitle of this blog for a reason. I've had houseplants since I was quite young. Growing and caring for them has been one of the few constants in my life--one of my greatest joys--as I've gone from child, to teenager, to adulthood and on to middle age. One of the other constants in my life, unfortunately, has been a tendency toward depression. I've always come through, though, and my plants have always come with me. I've had many plants during some of those times, and very few in others, but I always enjoyed caring for however many I've had. They always provided a bit of green joy amongst the blue shades of sorrow.

But after I recuperated from my lingering cold this winter, I realized that although I was better physically, I was not in a good state mentally. And for the first time in my life, the classic depression symptom, "loses interest in things one usually enjoys" affected my relationship with my plants. Instead of sustaining me through the tough emotional times, tending to the houseplants began to feel like an insurmountable chore, one that I thoroughly resented. I suffered, and the plants suffered. I lost some to insect problems, and at least a few, I am ashamed to say, to neglect. Some of my others, though still alive, are definitely not looking their best.

But I am slowly getting better, and I hope the plants will too.

My new Easter cactus, Rhipsalidopsis gaertneri aka Hatiora gaertneri, purchased on Monday. For the first time in a while, I am actually looking forward to taking care of not just my old plants, but new plants as well.

I am also looking forward to getting back to blogging on a more regular basis. I know I said that after I recovered from my cold, and I meant it. I mean it this time too, and I hope things will work out better. I am making a personal commitment to posting at least once a week, and I hope it will work out to being much more frequent than that.

A Vicarious Trip Home

One of the things I miss most about living in New York is visiting the New York Botanical Gardens. I used to hop on the train at least twice a month, every month, to visit what I considered to be my special place.

One of my last visits before I moved to Illinois was to the NYBG's annual orchid show, in March of 2003. And even though my camera was of a far lower quality than the one I use now, and the photos are low resolution, the pictures I took at that show remain some of my favorites:

Epiphytic orchids (Dendrobiums and Oncidiums, I think) displayed in the branches of a live Ficus benjamina. I love this display technique, and often wonder if it would be possible to grow them in the home that way.

Miniature Oncidium hybrids

The tag for the yellow flowering plant reads Epidendrum ballerina 'Tropica'

Phalaenopsis varieties interplanted with Philodendron 'Autumn'

Not orchids, (though you can see some Phalaenopsis leaves to the bottom right) but I was really drawn to this stunning cluster of Tillandsia ionantha. I didn't know it, but I was a budding Bromeliadmaniac even then.

This year's Orchid Show started last Saturday, and I'm sorry I won't be there to see it. But I was very happy to see this preview video on YouTube.




It was almost like going home, even for just a minute.