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.

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.

Adventures in Growing: Expectations

I received a couple of interesting responses to Monday's post, regarding my Sansevieria hallii. I had mentioned that my plant produces one new leaf every year, and in the comments, two different people stated, in very similar terms, that such a slow growth pattern would drive them crazy. I was somewhat taken aback, because it would never have occurred to me to be bothered by this. Come to think of it, it wouldn't have bothered me much if the plant hadn't put out a new leaf this year. In fact, as long as it remained healthy, and didn't lose any leaves, I don't think I'd mind too much if this Sansevieria never added another leaf ever again. (Okay, I'd mind, but not to the point of madness.)

Then I started to wonder why that was. I'm not being critical of the people that commented; I find their opinions perfectly reasonable. I just began to wonder why my mindset was so very different. It is not that I don't have expectations for certain plants, and I do find myself disappointed if those expectations aren't met. I expect plants purchased specifically for flowers, like Hippeastrum, (Amaryllis) to bloom. I wait with eager anticipation for the cuttings I take to root, and the seeds I plant to sprout. I kind of wish that some of my younger Hoyas were mature enough to bloom, but the fact that aren't, and probably won't be for at least a couple of years, isn't driving me crazy.

A previously posted picture of my Araucaria heterophylla (Norfolk Island Pine.) I've had this plant for a couple of years now, and while it does put out new growth--note leaf tips--it does so very slowly.

I think one of the reasons, is that these days, I seldom purchase a plant that I am not satisfied with, as is, this very minute. I may see the potential in a plant, picturing it larger, more vigorous, in bloom, or what have you, but if I don't actually like what it looks like right now, I am likely to leave it on the shelf. If I already think a plant is attractive, I'm unlikely to be disappointed if it doesn't change much. Another reason is that I'm happy if the plant's growth pattern is in line with its natural behavior. If my Sans was supposed to produce multiple leaves in a short time, then yeah, a leaf a year would be maddening.

Euphorbia lactea cristata. Crested plants are often slow growers. I've had this plant for a few years. It could have gotten a bit bigger during that time, but I can't swear to it. Fortunately, I think it is cool-looking as is.

A third reason is probably just that I have a lot of plants. I no longer know exactly how many I have, but 350 is a reasonable guess. When you have that many, several plants are usually doing something interesting at any given time, so it doesn't usually matter if any particular plant is just sitting there, doing nothing readily observable. There is a corollary to that third reason, as applies to Sansevieria: I have quite a few different types, that grow at different rates, so as a member of that group, the S. hallii has its own peculiar charms.

Another previously posted picture of some of my other Sansevierias, from last fall. In front: Sansevieria kirkii var pulchra 'Coppertone'. The rest, clockwise from the left: S. masoniana, NoId S. trifasciata cultivar, S. kirkii var kirkii, and S. cylindrica.

Ultimately, all growers of houseplants have differing expectations regarding our plants. As can be seen from many of my previous posts, I am thrilled with new growth from my plants, and am frustrated when they do poorly. But just as often, I am happy to just let them be whatever they are going to be, in the moment. My late mother would never have believed it, but my plants are going a long way towards teaching me patience and calm, qualities that she tried to instill in me, but that I have had great difficulty in achieving.

Flowers vs. Foliage

Every now and again at the Garden Web House Plants Forum, someone posts a thread inquiring about people's taste in plants. One question asked is whether we prefer plain green foliage or variegates, another popular one is whether we grow house plants mostly for their flowers or for their foliage. It isn't hard to figure out where I stand on this issue. After all, this blog is called "Life Among the Leaves," not Life Among the Blossoms."

The two pots of Hippeastrum 'Orange Sovereign' make eye-catching accents in this grouping. But my favorites in this picture, without question, are the foliage plants, particularly the Dracaena reflexa 'Song of India'

I do love flowers. Few things bring me more joy than seeing my outdoor garden in full bloom. In fact, I tend to err towards flowers outdoors--I don't have enough foliage interest going on there. It is something I intend to work on. Also, I do grow a few houseplants strictly for their flowers: Hibiscus rosa-sinensis, Hippeastrums, and Phalaenopis orchids all have exquisite blooms and rather dull foliage. I think the foliage of epiphytic cacti, like Schlumbergera and Epiphyllum is interesting it its own right, but I don't think I'd be as interested if they didn't bloom as well.

Epiphyllum 'David W. Grant'

As beautiful as the Epi bloom above is, to me it pales in comparision to the foliage of this Aglaonema 'Siam Aurora'

But for the rest of my plants, flowers are strictly a bonus--a sign that the plant is healthy. (I've heard that sometimes sick or dying plants bloom as a last-ditch attempt to reproduce, but that hasn't happened to me yet.) Beautiful or intriguing foliage is what I look for when I go plant shopping. Oh, and as to that variegated vs, plain green thing: I covet variegated plants of all sorts, but I think the most beautiful plant I've ever seen was a healthy, shiny, deep green Dracaena deremensis 'Janet Craig'. Second place goes to a well-grown Homalomena 'Emerald Gem.' Both plain green, they just seem to embody the essence of "planthood" to me.

My Houseplant Quirks and Foibles

I've already shared certain quirky ways in which I relate, or don't relate, to plants. There is my tendency to get obsessed with certain types of plants, like Hedera and Aloe. (And though I haven't written much about them yet, I also went through certain avid collector phases with Saintpaulia, Sansevieria and Peperomia, and probably some others I'm forgetting at the moment.) There is my slightly kooky predilection to chose particular colors and shapes for the pots of certain plants (red for Hedera helix, square for Aglaonema cvv.) There are certain plants on my Never-Again List for which I have something of an irrational aversion. (An example is Dieffenbachia--why do I dislike them so, while loving their relatives the Aglaonemas? They are actually very similar looking.)

Aglaonema 'Cory' One of my favorites, yet not much different from a Dieffenbachia.

Here are some other little quirks that I have:

I am generally very good at houseplant identification. I am usually able to tell to which genus an unfamiliar plant belongs without much difficulty. However, I am both cactus and palm blind. With the exception of certain very distinct groups (Astrophytum, Opuntia and occasionally Mammillaria) I can't seem to learn how to tell one cactus genus from another. I can recognize Rhapis and Caryota, but I can't tell one fan palm genus from another, and get totally, completely confused by all of the narrow-leaflet palms.

I like to think of myself as pretty smart. I am definitely pro-science, and I refuse to fall back on common names, but I do find myself annoyed and frustrated by plants with complicated taxonomy. An example would be Haworthias, which often have not only a genus and species, but a subspecies and a variety name as well. Orchids are, of course, the champions of complicated nomenclature.

The Haworthia on the top right is a H. starkiana, on the bottom right is a H. reinwardtii. I'm happy to know that much.

Somewhat related to the above: No matter how hard I try to retain them, I always lose plant tags. I have a good memory in general, and 99% of the time, I don't need a tag to remember the names of my plants. I tend to dislike how tags look sticking up out of my pots. But when I need a tag, I really need one. Like for the Haworthias and Orchids. I've gotten to the point where I am content, most of the time, to just know what genus I have. I'm particularly happy if I know the species. Subspecies be damned!

This Phalaenopsis was on clearance, most likely because the tag was missing. Apparently I'm not the only one who has trouble holding on to them.

And there is one time when I actually enjoy not knowing which plant is which. I have eighteen Hippeastrums (popularly known as Amaryllis) and I've lost the tags for most of them (some never had tags--I've bought a few NoIds at a discount on eBay.) So whenever I get a bloom stalk, I have no idea what color flower I'm going to get until they are about to open. I generally regard this as a nice surprise.

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.

Never Again List

As of this writing, I have roughly 350 houseplants. If I could total up the number I have had in the past 30 years or so, it would probably come out to well over a thousand. I wouldn't begin to know how to quantify the number of different species I've had, since I tend to become ::cough:: obsessed with certain plants, and thus have had many duplicates. However, I do know that there are certain plants that I do not want to deal with again. These are either plants that I like that I've failed with repeatedly, or those I decided I just didn't care for after trying them out once or twice.

Here is my list of Never Again Plants:

Aphelandra: (Zebra Plant) These lose leaves at the drop of a hat, because they are fussy about watering. One fact of life here among the leaves: Though I try not to let it happen too often, everything I own will have its soil dry out more than it might like, at least once in a while. If a plant can’t handle that, I can't handle it.

Begonia rex: I just don’t know how to please them. I think they need supplemental humidity, and pebble trays just don’t do the trick. They are also prone to powdery mildew in my climate. In fact, Begonias in general are trouble for me, though I haven’t given up on the non-rexes. I think they have temperature issues I haven’t quite figured out, in addition to the humidity thing.

Calathea: (any species or variety) Another one with watering and humidity issues.

Cissus discolor: A heartbreaker. A really beautiful plant that cannot stand to dry out at all. I tried another one this year, against my better judgment. I figured a larger, more established plant might be tougher than the 4-inch pots I'd had in the past, so I bought a large one in a gallon-sized pot. It still didn't work out.

Dieffenbachia: (any variety): Though I did fail with these once or twice, I don't think their care would be too hard to master. I just don't like them well enough to try again.

Dracaena marginata: Another plant that just doesn’t move me. Plus, my cats always try to eat them.

Homalomena ‘Emerald Gem:’ Another heartbreaker. A beautiful plant whose leaves turn yellow if you look at them hard. The problem doesn’t seem to be directly traceable to watering, humidity or lighting, so I’m thinking that it just isn't suited to long-term houseplant culture. Not every tropical plant is.

Monstera obliqua (or M. adansonii, etc.): Based on its appearance, I thought it would require similar care to Epipremnum aureum, or even to M. deliciosa, but it doesn’t. Needs lots of light to maintain leaf size and perforations and is very sensitive to erratic watering.

Nematanthus: I’ve had scale insects on every single one I’ve ever owned.

Peperomia argyreia: (Watermelon Peperomia) Yet another heartbreaker. I keep them moist, they fail. I keep them a bit drier, they fail. I try to give them what they need in terms of light and humidity, they fail.

Peperomia caperata: See P. argyreia. Even more heatbreaking, since I like them better, especially the variegated ones.

Philodendron hederaceum: No good reason, really. Just not my cup of tea. Anything it can do, Epipremnum aureum (pothos) does better, in my opinion.

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.

There are a couple of addenda to the Never Again List, which are as follows:

Addendum 1. Plants I currently own that I will go on the “never again” list if they die:


Begonia ‘Cracklin’ Rosie’: I love this plant and it does well for me. An exception to my begonia black thumb, so far. Six years and counting.

Begonia 'Cracklin' Rosie'

Hedera helix: Yes, I’m serious. I did give them up for about 10 years, before I fell back under their spell. Coming soon: a post about how that happened. But I really mean it. If for some reason I can’t keep the ones I have now going well, they will be the last ones I ever have.

Addendum 2. Plants that should be on the never again list, but I’m a sucker for them:

Alocasia: Mite magnets, need good light and more humidity than I can usually provide.

Codiaeum: (Croton) I have one now, on its last legs. Again with the spider mites! Again with the watering issues!

Selaginella: This time around they are doing okay in my terrariums. But they don’t always, and I don’t dare try them outside of one.

So there you have it. I think this still leaves me with lots of plants to try in the future. A few of those will probably end up on this list in time. And something on this list will likely end up in my collection again, despite my best intentions. Because as my mother taught me "Never say never!"