Showing posts with label taxonomy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label taxonomy. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Pretty picture: Odontocidium (?) Margaret(e?) Holm 'Alpine'

I'm not ordinarily a big fan of Oncidiums and their relatives -- objectively, I can be impressed by how many blooms, or an unusual color, or something, but I think my preferences run more toward single (or few) very large and elaborate blooms, instead of lots of smaller, simpler ones. When I come across an exception to that general rule, though, it tends to be a doozy.


I think the main thing I like about this is that the blooms are so large, relative to what I usually see, but the pattern is also great, and I like the colors, too. This one just pleases me in all the ways. (Except possibly for being fragrant, which I don't think it is but even if it were it wouldn't matter because I wouldn't be able to smell it at the show or remember it after the show.)


The ID on this one is confusing and uncertain. Of course. In 2008, I posted a photo of an orchid we were selling at the ex-job, which was tagged as Odontoglossum 'Margarete Holm,' but it didn't look anything like this -- different color, different pattern, smaller blooms. And, obviously, Odontoglossum, instead of Odontocidium.

The orchid registry where I usually get my ancestry information gives two results for "MargaretE Holm," but neither one is listed as an Odontocidium, so I don't know which one is the plant in the photo, or whether either of them is. one is an Oncostele (syn. Odontoglossum), registered in 1983, and the other is an Oncostele (syn. Odontioda), registered in 1988. The site doesn't have photos to go with the listings, which is understandable (it would be a lot more work, and it's hard to confirm the identity of a plant in a photo unless it's very distinctive or common), but that also leaves me without a way to choose one or the other.

An online image search leads me to think that it's probably the 1983 cultivar, making this actually an Odontoglossum instead of an Odontocidium as tagged, though that preference is based on a single Pinterest post. Ideally, one would like to have something a little more solid to base the guess on. I also found a Garden Web thread about a plant that sort of looks like this but with blooms that lean more to the pink/purple side than the dark red in my pictures. That one was sold as Margarete Holm 'Alpine.' A Garden Webber comes down on the Odontoglossum/1983 side, but . . . Garden Web is only barely more trustworthy than Pinterest, and only one commenter weighed in, so I wouldn't, like, want to bet someone's life on that being true.

And none of this explains the photo I took in 2008, which pretty clearly seems to be a different plant than this.

In any case, I like these photos -- if anything, the photos make it look better than it did in person -- and this was one of my favorite orchids at the 2015 show.

Next up, another Anthurium, this time no. 0255 "Steph N. Wolfe." Hopefully it will be less confusing than this.


Tuesday, February 26, 2013

New (old) plants

Among the casualties of the Scalepocalypse has been Manfreda undulata 'Chocolate Chips.' It did pretty well outside last summer, but even though it was in a clay pot, it got blown off the cart a lot and never made a lot of progress in terms of overall appearance. It'd grow for a while, get knocked over and lose a couple leaves, then grow for a while, then get knocked over, etc. It was managing to accumulate some foliage after I brought it inside in the fall (long, floppy foliage, granted, but it was foliage nonetheless), but then it had to go and get scale, so it got thrown out anyway.

I've used the Scalepocalypse to get rid of some things that I wasn't that fond of anymore, so a lot of the plants that I've thrown out will probably stay gone, but the Manfreda really kind of bothered me. Fortunately, the ex-job still had them, so I could replace it. This one's actually better than the original, in that there are two plants in the same pot, instead of just one like the plant I bought originally.



I've only bought two plants in the last six months. The Manfreda is the more recent (20 February); the other (15 January) is an Agave victoriae-reginae 'Pinguino,' which I bought mostly because we somehow managed to go to Reha Greenhouses when they were closed again, and even though they weren't technically open, they still opened up the store and let me and the husband wander around the greenhouse for a bit. I figured I should buy something. (I actually wanted 3" square grower pots. Nobody seems to sell the size of those I need, though, so the Agave was Plan B.)

Taxonomic note: the tag said that this was Agave ferdinandi-regis 'Pinguino,' not Agave victoriae-reginae 'Pinguino,' but officially, the former doesn't exist, and is a synonym for the latter. It seems to be the same as any other A. victoriae-reginae, except that the leaf margins are a different color (red-brown on this, usually white), there are sometimes small spines near the terminal spine (easier to see in the first picture below), the terminal spine is dark brown or black instead of green and white, and there are fewer and larger leaves. (Ref.) It's still a little unclear what the correct ID is; the tag said one thing, and davesgarden.com says another, A. nickelsiae. At the moment, Plant List says both are synonyms for A. victoriae-reginae,1 so that's what I'm going with.



In any case, I had six Agave victoriae-reginaes already. A couple different kinds, even, so there wasn't much point to buying a third type, but you know how it is in a time of crisis; you want to stick with the things you know.

Plus I was having an Agaveish phase anyway. The last purchases before these two were the original Manfreda (13 June), and on 25 June, an Agave vilmoriniana2 and Epipremnum aureum 'Neon.' Apparently Agaves are comfort plants for me.3

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1 Which Plant List doesn't even recognize the name "Agave nickelsiae," and suggests Agave nickelsii instead. Which is why we try not to rely too much on davesgarden.com.
2 Which has been fine, though I realized almost immediately that size was going to be a problem sooner or later. This is in a 6-inch (15 cm) diameter pot:


3 (Not that Manfredas are Agaves. But they're pretty close.)


Sunday, October 9, 2011

Pretty pictures: Chrysanthemum (?) cvv.

Some of the plants that were previously Chrysanthemum spp. have been shuffled into other genera, and then according to Wikipedia, several of those got shuffled right back in again, so I'm not even going to try to guess what these are. None of them had genus names, only variety names, so for the sake of my sanity and spare time, I'm just going to call them all Chrysanthemums and hope that that's correct. And if it's not, almost nobody will care. So.

'Fire Island.'

'Red Auburn.'

'Dragon Time.'


Thursday, September 1, 2011

More corrections

Readers have alerted me to two more errors on PATSP, having to do with one of the profile posts and one misidentified plant. Then I ran into another thing all on my own, where something in one of the profiles needed a bit of clarification. So here we are again.

1. Ficus elastica and isoprene

In the Ficus elastica profile, I sort of implied that the people making natural rubber extract isoprene from the sap of Hevea brasiliensis and other plants, then polymerize it into natural rubber. This is not the case.


Model of isoprene. Black balls are carbon atoms, white are hydrogen, and the gray connectors represent pairs of electrons. This is my own photo: I would have used it in the Ficus elastica profile, except that I'd forgotten I owned a molecular model set.1

Straight-up, pure isoprene can and does exist. It's a colorless, low-boiling liquid which is mostly obtained either as a byproduct of oil and naphtha refining, or by heating natural rubber until it starts disintegrating into smaller molecules. The isoprene so obtained can then be polymerized into a substance with properties very close to natural rubber.2 Readers who collect oxymorons will be pleased to know that the term for this artificially polymerized, artificially obtained polyisoprene is "synthetic natural rubber."

However. Natural natural rubber polymerizes within the plant, forming small globs of polyisoprene that float around in the sap. When the sap is collected from the plant, these globs are then coagulated, washed, filtered, pressed, and stretched to form blocks of rubber. So it's still technically correct of me to say that isoprene is polymerized to form natural rubber, but the polymerization has already happened by the time the sap is collected.3

2. Persea americana toxicity

Next up, in the Persea americana profile, I devoted footnote 2 to the toxicity of the plant, saying that all parts of the plant except the fruit should be considered toxic, particularly to pets. Then Poor Richard's Almanac had to go and spoil that one for me by writing a post about the culinary use of avocado leaves.

My Persea americana, as of yesterday morning. I had two plants to begin with, and planted them together in this pot to try to make it fuller. That's mostly worked, but the two plants together seem to dry out a lot faster than they did when separated, so there have been more dropped leaves and

This sent me deep into the bowels of the internet to do research. I won't bore you with all the twists and turns, but the gist is:

Yes, people really do cook with avocado leaves.

No, not any avocado leaf will do: the variety used in Mexican cooking is a specific race of the avocado (according to some sources it's a separate species, Persea drymifolia, but others consider it just a race of P. americana).

Avocado leaves should still be considered toxic to all pets, especially especially especially to birds: ALLLLLLLLLLLL the bird-toxicity lists say Persea fruit or foliage is potentially lethal for at least some species of bird, and they say this over and over again, in extremely shrill and insistent language.

Humans don't seem to be as affected by the toxin in avocado leaves as animals are, and animals aren't all affected to the same degree. Wikipedia's article on persin, the actual toxic agent in Persea americana leaves,4 reports that consumption of avocado leaves produces a wide array of unpleasantness in a whole barnyard full of animals (cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, mice, cows, goats, horses, pigs, sheep, ostriches, chickens, turkeys and fish), ranging from reduced milk production all the way up to asphyxia and death. (Wikipedia's original source is a bit more detailed, q.v.)

The way to tell whether you have one of the cooking-type avocado leaves or the useless and/or poisonous avocado leaves: leaves which are okay to cook with will smell like anise, and the fruits will have much thinner skin. Generally, if you start an avocado plant from a supermarket fruit's seed, you're not going to end up with leaves you can cook with.

So I was partly wrong: a subset of avocado plants have leaves which are not toxic, at least not in the small quantities needed to flavor food. (I don't recommend sitting down and eating ten leaves in one sitting, even if it is the drymifolia variety.) In the context of a houseplant that was started from a supermarket avocado, though, you're better off treating it as toxic. Even if it doesn't hurt you, it's not likely to do anything for your food.

3. Aloe aristata isn't Aloe aristata

Finally, I've found out from Taylor Holzer (a reader) that I've been calling the below plant Aloe aristata when it is in fact a hybrid of Aloe aristata and something else.

My Aloe aristata x whatever, in January 2011.

The most likely candidate, I think, is Gasteria batesiana, which cross is called Gasteraloe x beguinii, but a similar hybrid is formed by A. aristata and A. variegata, and I'll probably never know for sure which cross I have.

A. aristata is apparently distinguishable by the dead tips on the ends of the leaves, and the thinner, less fleshy leaves. (I'd thought that maybe the differences just depended on cultural conditions -- since I'm not growing them outdoors, a lot of my plants don't look quite like they ought to. But sadly, no.) It's also reluctant to offset, is the rumor, whereas my plant offsets more or less constantly. My guesses about the actual ancestry are based both on Holzer's own guesses and on this discussion thread at davesgarden.com.

Aloe aristata hybrid (L), Aloe aristata species (R). Photo credit: Taylor Holzer. Used by permission.

I will go through the blog and change the name at some point, but I just finished a few rounds of name-changing, and am pretty sick of it, so it might take me a while. (It's bad enough that I have to go change two profiles.) Since some of you got offsets of this plant from me, though, I figured I should let you know that it was half-misidentified.

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Photo credits: Mine except where noted.

1 Yes, I am that nerdy. In fact, it's actually quite a bit worse than you think, because I don't just have a molecular model set, I have six, which were purchased between my senior year of high school and my sophomore year of college. (The first one, in high school, was I think actually a birthday or Christmas present from Mom and Dad, but I think I bought the other five. It's been a while; some of the details are fuzzy.) So I can model anything up to about 80 carbon atoms. Here is a short segment of a natural rubber (cis-polyisoprene) molecule, for example:


2 It's not exactly the same as natural rubber because natural rubber contains impurities from the original sap: fatty acids, proteins, inorganic compounds ("ash"), that sort of thing.
3 (If you want to be even more technical: the plants don't polymerize isoprene, but its phosphorylated form.)
4 Regrettably, in the course of editing this post, I lost a "persin"/"person" pun I was very proud of. I could put it here anyway, but it was context-dependent and wouldn't be funny without the set-up. I just wanted you to know.


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Errata, Taxonomy

I know the Errata posts are not the most fascinating, but I feel sort of obliged -- if I'm going to be responsible for spreading bad information, the least I can do is post the good information when I find what it is. Also I figure some of y'all are nerdy enough to care about these things for their own sakes.

So. In the most recent round of name changes, we have:

Maranta leuconeura kerchoviana.

Maranta leuconeura kerchovEana --> M. l. kerchovIana. It's probably a bad assumption, but I've been assuming that the "correct" version of names is probably the one that shows up most often in Google searches, at least when we're talking about spelling variants. "Kerchoveana" is also pretty widespread, and I'm not positive it's wrong, but it seemed worth changing anyway, since I was already there to update all the posts to link M. l. kerchoviana to the M. l. erythroneura profile, having realized that the odds are very, very slim that I'll ever write a separate profile for M. l. kerchoviana.

Bryophyllum tubiflorum.

Kalanchoe tubiflora has become Bryophyllum tubiflorum.

Aloe 'Doran Black.'

The eternal alternation between Aloe 'Doran Black' and Aloe 'DorIan Black' is once again in a 'Doran' phase, and this had better be the last time I have to change this, goddamn it.

Anthurium crystallinum 'Mehani.'

I've decided I'm pretty sure that Anthurium 'Mehani' is actually A. crystallinum 'Mehani,' as certain other websites claim.

Plectranthus verticillatus.

Plectranthus nummularius got switched to P. verticillatus. I've been calling it nummularius for so long that I don't expect I'll be able to remember this, but we'll see. I pretty much never shut up about this plant, so if nothing else I got a lot of practice typing "verticillatus:" who knows, maybe it'll help me remember.

Phlebodium aureum 'Mandianum.'

Polypodium aureum 'Mandianum' and 'Blue Hare' have been changed to Phlebodium aureum 'Mandianum' / 'Blue Hare.' This is also going to be a tough one for me to remember.

Albuca bracteata.

Ornithogalum bracteatum and O. longibracteatum are now obsolete names for Albuca bracteata. This is also going to be impossible for me to remember, as Ornithogalum has been the name for as long as I've been reading plant books, and has a bit better memory hook ("ornitho" means "bird;" I don't know what the "-galum" part means) than Albuca (no clue, on the meaning of "albuca"). But I will do my best.

Vriesea imperialis.

Alcantarea imperialis becomes Vriesea imperialis, which was long overdue; most people were well ahead of me on that one already.

Justicia scheidweileri.

I'd mentally switched names already, and was using the correct name in the new posts, but I finally went back and changed Porphyrocoma pohliana to Justicia scheidweileri in the old posts.

Astrophytum ornatum.

Finally, in one spot I referred to Astrophytum ornatUM as A. ornatA: ornatum is correct, and this has been changed.

I'm aware of certain other incorrect plant names being used here at PATSP, but I can only stand to change names for just so long before it becomes unbearably tedious. Also: I just don't think some of the changes can be correct (Dracaena marginata --> D. reflexa); in other cases it would be incredibly difficult to go back and make the changes to every post in which the plant appears (Dracaena deremensis --> D. fragrans); and sometimes I just find the new name aesthetically displeasing and am hoping that they'll change it back even though I don't think they will (Synadenium grantii --> Euphorbia umbellata).

Now go and get on with your Saturday.


Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Walkaway: Dracaena deremensis 'Hawaiian Sunshine'


This plant (photographed at the ex-job) doesn't so much appeal to me or not appeal to me as it leaves me kind of scratching my head, wondering why it was necessary. There would be a certain novelty in having a Dracaena deremensis that looked like D. fragrans 'Massangeana,' except that according to the most recent taxonomic rearrangement, D. deremensis is D. fragrans, and although I like pretty much every D. deremensis variety I've ever encountered, it's hard to get terribly excited over strappy green leaves with a central yellow stripe, given that we already had one of those and it still works just fine.

On closer examination, there are some subtle differences. D. fragrans 'Massangeana' usually has leaves which are longer and broader, with slightly wavy margins, so an argument could be made that 'Hawaiian Sunshine' is a little tidier-looking than 'Massangeana.' 'Hawaiian Sunshine' is also a bit glossier, and according to the on-line hype, it's also better at maintaining its variegation in low light (both of which are typical of plants called D. deremensis).

I personally remain unconvinced that 'Hawaiian Sunshine' is that big of an improvement on 'Massangeana' (though I would accept free sample plants to evaluate, hint hint), but what do you think? Is the form different enough to matter? How important are glossier leaves to you? Is it a turn-off that it's patented? Do we like this? Do we care?


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Widower (Persea americana)

One of the fundamental problems long-lived plants have to solve is where to propagate themselves. When is not as much of a problem -- you live a long time; if you don't reproduce this year, well, there's always next -- and both why and how are pretty much decided for you already: it's going to be a seed,1 and you do it or else your whole species is going to go extinct. But where?

If you just let the seeds drop, your next generation is in a decent spot -- you know this because you have managed to live there for however long it's been. However, this also means that your children are going to be competing with you for water and minerals, and you're likely to shade them so much that they won't be able to get any light, and will struggle to get going at first, which will lead some of them to early deaths. Or maybe they'll outcompete you and lead to your early death. Either way, not terribly appealing.

You could set your seeds free to float on the wind, or drop them into a body of water, to float around until they hit a suitable spot: this ensures that at least some of them will wind up far enough away from you that they're not going to compete with you. However, most wind-borne seeds will land in places where they can't grow (too salty, too wet, too rocky, too dry, etc.), and water-borne seeds are mainly going to travel in a single direction -- either around the edge of the lake or downstream. Water travel is nice in that you know that there will be water waiting for the seeds when they get wherever they're going, but it's also very limiting, in terms of total land space: sooner or later, you're trying to drop seeds around the same lake shore that your relatives are already circling, or down the same stream that's nothing but root-to-root you up and down the banks already.

Two varieties of Persea americana fruit: the black one is I think a Hass; the green is a "Slimcado," a variety that's supposed to have 1/3 less fat than . . . something. I don't think the sticker actually said what it has 1/3 less fat than.

Finally, you can take advantage of something more mobile than yourself, which is what the avocado (Persea americana) decided to do. The fruits are calorie-rich, so anything that can eat them2 gets a good reward for doing so. They even fall off the tree before they're ripe and then ripen on the ground, which is more convenient if your seed distributor doesn't climb. And the seed is (relatively) huge, hard, and rounded, so it easily survives passage through a large animal's gastrointestinal tract, which as a bonus means that the seed starts its life in a moist, nutrient-rich pile of dung.

If you're an avocado, then, it would seem that you have life all figured out, and you can just lay back and enjoy the rewards of your cleverness while your partner distributes your seeds for you. Right?

Well, you could, if only you hadn't picked this guy to be your seed-carrier:


That's a ground sloth,3 and they went extinct in North and South America about 10,000 years ago, give or take.4 But that's okay, 'cause you've got a back-up:

Photo by Leonard G., from Wikipedia.

Oh, shit.

That's a gomphothere, the New World answer to the elephant,5 which also started to go extinct around 10,000 years ago,6 though the gomphotheres stuck it out quite a while longer -- possibly lasting until as recently as 6000 years ago.

As far as I know, there is no hard evidence to show that either of these animals was definitely the distributor of Persea seeds, but there aren't a lot of candidates: whatever distributed avocados had to be a pretty big animal, because all indications are that they're supposed to be swallowed whole. There are only so many animals big enough to do that at the right spot in the fossil record. It's an educated guess.

Whatever it was, if not the sloths or the gomphotheres, went just as extinct as they did, so the central point remains unchanged. So the widow part of the "person" for this plant is because Persea has lost an animal partner, so to speak. The reason why he's a widower, and not a widow, is because the Nahuatl people of Mexico, who stepped in to take the gomphotheres' and sloths' place,7 chose the name for the plant that wound up sticking: ahuacatl, which means, in the Nahuatl language, "testicle."8

Fruits on a tree outdoors. Photo by B.navez, via Wikipedia.

No two sources agree on exactly where or when human domestication of the avocado first began, but Wikipedia says the first evidence of avocado use dates to 10,000 BC, and organized human domestication began roughly 8000-9000 years ago. There's also some confusion about the geographic origin of the species, with some sources putting the original range from Central America north to the Rio Grande River and south to Peru, and Wikipedia locating it specifically in the state of Puebla, Mexico. I'm not going to go into the history of avocado cultivation or the peculiarities of cross-pollinating avocados or any of that, nor am I going to talk about how wonderful and delicious they are,9 or how nutritious, or how easy to grow outdoors, or any of that, because dammit, this is a houseplant blog and we have to get to the houseplant stuff.

I suspect that most indoor gardeners eventually wind up trying to grow an avocado from seed. Seeds are easy to get, and easy to sprout, so it's sort of a logical thing to try.

Nobody, as a result, tries to sell them as houseplants, though I have my suspicions that a clever enough marketer could probably pull it off: the leaves are a nice, slightly metallic green, and they're not particularly difficult to grow. A new name, maybe a slightly dwarfed habit (either a small-statured variety or a regular variety that's been chemically dwarfed), some kind of made-up legend about them being lucky,10 and I think a grower could have a hit. The only thing that keeps them from being grown more indoors, I think, is that indoor-grown plants tend not to look that great. But mass-production in Florida and proper pruning of the young plants would take care of that problem, too. I really do think there's money in this idea somewhere.

PROPAGATION: The usual way one starts an avocado is, one removes the seed from the center of a supermarket-bought fruit, washes it off in running water (no soap), suspends it pointed-end-up with toothpicks over a glass of water, puts the whole thing in a warm, sunny spot, and waits for it to split open and begin to sprout.

Seeds suspended in water with toothpicks. Photo by KVDP, from Wikipedia.

This method is fairly straightforward, though there are ways to do it wrong. You should change the water regularly, lest the seed start to rot. Opinions differ on exactly how often to change the water: I'm inclined to say at least once a week, though some sources say once every few weeks. More often is better than less often. You should also maintain the water level more or less constant at about halfway up the seed: don't submerge it completely, and don't let all the water evaporate so the seed dries out.

But you don't have to do it like that. You can also start it directly in soil. If it's decent soil and you keep it moist (not waterlogged: moist) for long enough, in a warm, sunny spot, just under the surface of the soil, that's supposed to work just as well. I've started one in soil before, but that sort of doesn't count: the seed had already sprouted while in the fruit. (I don't know why I didn't get a picture. Sorry.)

Either way, as long as the seeds never dry out, germination is usually pretty reliable. If I remember correctly, although the online advice is usually to wait 4-6 weeks before the sprout emerges, the one we started in water was much faster than that. And the second one didn't even wait on us to take it out of the fruit.

LIGHT: Well, the websites all say that you should give your plant as much light as you can, up to and including full sun, but the plant doesn't necessarily have to have that much: my personal plants get some sun for a few weeks in the summer, but only bright indirect light the rest of the year, and they've done fine. They're not gorgeous, and they might grow faster if they were getting more light, but the point is that they're not that particular about how much direct sun they get, so long as the light they're getting is bright.

Plants grown under lights may grow fast enough to run into the lights, which can bleach and burn the developing younger leaves, causing them to fall off. Keep some distance between artificial light and the top of your plant.

The better of my two plants, at about 11 months old.

WATER: The usual on-line advice is to keep them from ever getting really dry, but not so much that they get sopping wet either. My avocados dried out much more slowly than I was expecting when first potted up a year ago, but lately they're needing water every couple weeks. I don't feel like they're particularly fussy about when they get water, so long as I water thoroughly.

One site said that the leaves of plants which are too wet will curl under, while plants that are too dry will drop leaves. I've never seen either behavior on my plants, and it's not like I'm super-consistent with the watering, so I'm not sure I believe any of this. I have seen curled leaves on other people's plants, but I'm not convinced that this means they're too wet. (I guess if you suspect that the plant's too wet already, this might count as confirmation.)

HUMIDITY: The usual advice is to do something to boost the humidity near the plant as much as possible. I can't say my plants have ever complained about the humidity in here, but then, the humidity here is rarely all that low. If air is too dry, you may get tip burn or dropped lower leaves, though tip burn can also be caused by mineral build-up in the soil, and occasional leaf drop on an older plant is normal.

TEMPERATURE: There's a lot of debate on-line about whether or not established avocado trees, outdoors, can take a freeze or not, but I'm hoping that figuring out who's right isn't important if you're growing an avocado as a houseplant.

PESTS: Nothing in particular. I haven't had any spider mite problems on my plants, and spider mites are the pests I'd have if I were going to have pests.11 Persea species are especially susceptible to a particular mite called the persea mite, but unless you live in an area where avocados are grown outdoors, persea mites aren't likely to be a problem on your plant.

The outdoor growers seem most concerned about beetles, caterpillars, and weevils, none of which are likely to be an issue inside either. Fungal diseases are more of a concern (especially if you're misting to keep humidity up, or if you water from overhead in a shower or something, like I do), and scale and mealybugs are always something to watch out for.

GROOMING: The recommendation for pruning young avocado plants is usually to wait until a stem gets about 6 inches (15 cm) long, then cut it back to 3 inches (8 cm), over and over, until the plant has branched out well. I have a hard time doing this to plants, even when I know they need it,12 which is one problem, but the other problem is that the plants aren't always co-operative even when you do cut them back. This one, after getting cut back, grew one humongous leaf and one medium-sized leaf, didn't branch, and then stopped doing anything at all for several months:

My stubborn non-branching plant.

You'll also want to check your plant regularly to see whether it needs to be repotted: Persea doesn't like to be cramped. There seems to be general consensus that you shouldn't repot an avocado in the winter; if you can, wait until spring instead.

You're also not likely to get fruit on a plant grown indoors, though it happens occasionally on older plants, especially if they get to summer outdoors. If you do get fruit, it won't be the same kind of fruit you originally purchased.

FEEDING: Feed with a regular houseplant fertilizer at quarter-strength with every watering, or feed every three months at full-strength. The former method is more hassle for you, but probably better for the plant. Older, established plants may need more fertilizer than younger plants of the same size.

Persea is sensitive to mineral buildup and overfertilization; either can result in burnt leaf tips. (Tip burn is also a sign of low humidity, though.) Flushing the pot with a lot of distilled water or rainwater is one way to deal with this; you could also remove as much soil as possible from the roots and replace it with new soil, though that's more traumatic for the plant.

One of my references, the New World Encyclopedia, had this to say about the avocado:
There is an important interdependency between avocados and people. The plant lacks a seed dispersal technique outside of humans. It is hypothesized that it originally co-evolved with large mammals that are now extinct, such as the giant ground sloth, with these ecological partners vital to seed dispersal. New mechanisms have not evolved, but the effectiveness of human intervention has allowed the plant to prosper. Of course, in exchange for this benefit, the avocado provides a nutritional and desirable fruit for people.

This bugs me, because of course a new dispersal mechanism sure as hell has evolved, and we're it. We don't eat the fruit whole and then pass them in our . . . er, "dung," true, but Persea americana doesn't produce the same kind of fruit it used to, either. It's shuffled its genetics around and come up with a different fruit than what existed in the past, and if you don't believe me check this out:

"Criollo" avocados, the fruit of uncultivated Persea americana. Photo by Nick Saum, www.nicksaumphotography.com. Released under the GNU Free Documentation License (CC-BY-SA-3.0). Via Wikipedia.

Sure, we had a more direct and deliberate hand in the reshuffling than the sloths did, breeding them purposely to get the traits we wanted, but it's still evolution. We are part of the environment of the avocado plant, and it's changed to reproduce itself better in this new, slothless environment. Change in successive generations of an organism, over long periods of time, is what evolution is.

This also means, to extend my earlier metaphor, that the once-widowed avocado has remarried, and we're the bride. I hope this works out better for Persea than its previous marriages did.

References in no particular order:13
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Photo credits: Mine unless otherwise identified in the text.

1 Unless you're a moss, fern, or liverwort. But ew. Who'd want to be one of them?
2 (EDITED:) There seems to be broad agreement that the whole plant, including the leaves and fruits, is toxic to mammals, fish, and especially birds. A lot of people reportedly feed pieces of the fruit to their pets without any problems, and it probably is safe for cats and dogs in small amounts, but I don't recommend feeding any part of the avocado to any animal, especially especially especially birds, because you can't know how your particular animal will react or how much might cause a problem, and death is definitely a possible outcome.
I didn't see much suggesting that avocado plants or fruit are dangerous to humans as a group, though some individuals have allergies to the fruit. Humans don't appear to be very sensitive to the actual toxin in avocados (called persin, from the genus name Persea), but children would probably be more strongly affected, so do treat the plant like it's poisonous if you have kids around.
One particular variety of avocado, which depending on the source is either a subspecies (P. a. drymifolia) or species (P. drymifolia), is used in cooking in Mexico, where it is said to impart an anise-like flavor to dishes. The leaves of drymifolia are apparently safe in the amounts one would normally use for cooking, but as far as I can determine, only that particular variety is safe and useful. Drymifolia is distinguished from the others by having fruits with thinner skins, and the leaves smell of anise even before being cooked. Plants being grown as houseplants from supermarket avocados are probably not drymifolia (at best they might be a hybrid of it), so I do not recommend trying to cook with the leaves of a plant you've started from seed. (Even if they aren't toxic, the flavor is not likely to be what you're looking for anyway.) Instead, I'd recommend that you track down a source to sell you a whole plant with a confirmed identity. The only such source P. drymifolia I found on-line was Rolling River Nursery, out of Northern California, but their website doesn't seem to be updated very often ("available spring 2007"), and I have no personal dealings with them at all so I don't know if they're a good place to buy stuff or not. Caveat emptor.
3 Specifically, that's "Rusty," a reconstruction of the giant ground sloth Megalonyx jeffersonii. Rusty lives (or "lives," rather) at the University of Iowa Museum of Natural History, where he is apparently one of the major draws. I mean, they have him on the t-shirts and everything:


In person, he's actually kind of terrifying. You maybe don't get this from the photo, but he's enormous -- maybe 8-9 feet (2.4-2.7 m) tall and at least as long. And there are claws, which didn't show up that well in the above photo, but here he is from another angle:


4 I'm sure it's just a coincidence that human beings are thought to have arrived in the Americas around 14,500 years ago.
5 Technically, the picture above is of a skeleton found in China, but it made the whoops-it's-extinct joke better so I used it. One North American species was Gomphotherium angustidens, which looks pretty darned elephanty with its skin on:

Public domain illustration, from Wikipedia.

As for the relationship between gomphotheres and elephants: the terminology is confusing, and nobody seems terribly inclined to spell the interrelationships out clearly. My understanding is that the order Proboscidea of mammals contains the family Elephantidae (modern elephants), and the extinct families Mammutidae (mastodons), Gomphotheriidae (gomphotheres) and possibly the Stegodontidae (no common name) if you're the kind of person who believes the Stegodontidae should be a separate family. (Not everyone believes this; it's controversial.) So they're . . . fairly related to elephants, and they look quite a bit like elephants, but they aren't technically elephants.
6 Coincidence! (It actually might have been: there was an ice age ending around 10,000 years ago. It really might not have been our fault. I would be really surprised if we hadn't found some way to make the situation worse for the gomphotheres, though, because it's what we do.)
7 The Nahuatl among others, probably; I have a less than comprehensive understanding of how many distinct groups of people have lived in southern Mexico and Central America during the last 15,000 years, or what most of them would have called Persea americana. You don't know either, so don't go judging me.
8 In fact, for quite a while, people assumed that since it resembled a testicle, it had to be good for fertility, and maybe also an aphrodisiac, because people are easily convinced to think about sex and collectively very suggestible. The avocado thus became associated with lewd and promiscuous behavior, to the point where the early commercial growers and marketers had to launch an aggressive PR campaign to convince everyone that it was possible to eat avocados without turning into a huge slut.
9 I actually wouldn't know: to the best of my recollection, I've never eaten an avocado. Which you'd think I'd eat one while I was working on the profile, just to be able to say I'd done it, but no. (The avocados in the house are all bought and consumed by the husband. Who has thus far not turned into a huge slut, just in case you had lingering doubts about that.)
10 Or maybe this would be a good moment in history to bring back the aphrodisiac rumors?
11 I worry that maybe I'm tempting fate by saying so, but I haven't seen a mealybug or scale insect in here in a long time. And it's not like I stopped checking for them.
12 I don't trust them to resprout. I'm getting better about doing it anyway, but it's still difficult for me.
13 (Also I think it's probably an incomplete list. I try to document, but I lose things sometimes. Sorry.)


Sunday, February 13, 2011

Random plant event: Aeschynanthus NOID

I bought this NOID Aeschynanthus in early November 2010, because I liked the foliage. I didn't know what species or variety it was, and didn't expect to know anytime soon, either, because from what I read on-line, it looked like I couldn't know until I'd seen flowers. Green flowers meant the species A. longicaulus, and orange flowers meant the hybrid cultivar A. 'Black Pagoda.'


I figured I'd have a long wait, but a few days ago I saw this:


The picture makes it look more yellow-orange than it actually is: most of the tube is olive-green, and the last third (beginning at the bend) is basically brown. It's not remotely a pretty flower, in or out of the photo, but it is definitely different. And more importantly, I now know for sure what I have. It's an Aeschynanthus longicaulis.

And there will be more flowers soon, apparently.

So I decided that I want more Aeschynanthususes.

When I was updating the want list to reflect my desire for more Aeschynanthususes, I did some image googling to see what other varieties out there I need to have, and that's how I discovered A. marmoratus -- which looks exactly like A. longicaulis.



Well, crap, I thought. I'll never be able to figure out which species I have, now.

But, fortunately, I remembered The Plant List, and went over there to check, and it turns out that A. marmoratus is an obsolete synonym for A. longicaulis, so everything's cool and taxonomic certainty was restored. Though I did have to lie down for a little while afterward, to calm down.


Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Botanical Taxonomist's Junk Drawer

The spreadsheet I use as the master census for all my indoor plants has a column for the family of each plant. Most of the time, filling it in is straightforward. Stenocereus is in the Cactaceae. Vriesea is in the Bromeliaceae. Phalaenopsis is in the Orchidaceae. However: a fairly large subset of plants were problematic, when it came to determining family affiliation, because the usual sources of information didn't agree.

Aloe vera.

For example: is Aloe vera in the Asphodelaceae, as Wikipedia claims, or should I go with davesgarden.com and put it in the Aloaceae? Or maybe GRIN and Tropicos are more authoritative, in which case I should put it in the Xanthorrhoeaceae. Or maybe the old cactus and succulents book I bought at a secondhand store a few weeks ago should be considered, in which case there is a case to make for the Liliaceae. Without a compelling reason to take one source over the others,1 I was left to guess, or go with the first one I encountered, or whatever.

And this scenario happened over and over and over, see below.2
  • Dracaena: Ruscaceae, Ruscaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae
  • Agave: Agavaceae, Agavaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae, Amaryllidaceae
  • Chlorophytum: Agavaceae, Liliaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae
  • Sansevieria: Ruscaceae and Agavaceae, somehow; Ruscaceae; Asparagaceae; Asparagaceae
  • Haworthia: Asphodelaceae, Aloaceae, Xanthorrhoeaceae, Xanthorrhoeaceae, Liliaceae
  • Cordyline: Agavaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae
  • Aspidistra: Ruscaceae, Ruscaceae, Asparagaceae, Asparagaceae
  • Beaucarnea: Ruscaceae, Ruscaceae, Asparagaceae, Liliaceae

Sansevieria trifasciata 'Moonglow.'

Which is discouraging, if you like to know how your houseplants are related to one another.

But then, a couple weeks ago, The Phytophactor (whom you should really be reading, by the way) posted a link to The Plant List, an on-line database of plant names. TPL isn't the only database on-line that includes the obsolete names, but it does appear to be up-to-date,3 and it's the only one I know of that's been endorsed by the Phactor, as he calls himself sometimes, so, you know, whatever the hell. So I looked up every genus of plant I've got, checking to see that I had the right family written down, and -- hold on to your mind securely, now, because I am going to BLOW IT4 -- every single one of the cases I was unsure about, according to TPL, belongs in the Asparagaceae.

Aloe? Asparagaceae.

Dracaena? Asparagaceae.

Aspidistra, Haworthia, Aloe, Beaucarnea, Agave, Sansevieria, Chlorophytum? All Asparagaceae.

Cordyline fruticosa 'Kiwi.'

Now. There's no particular reason to believe that TPL is more right about this than Tropicos, or GRIN. There may in fact not even be a way to be right about this at the moment, given that taxonomy is normally a somewhat fluid science, and this has only gotten worse lately, with the arrival of cheaper gene sequencing and all the close genetic analysis it permits. But one will notice that TPL's Asparagaceae-as-junk-drawer policy has one big advantage over Tropicos and GRIN, which is that it's really, really simple. Faced with a dauntingly huge number of unclassified or ambiguously-classified plants, one can take fifteen minutes or so to put them all in the Asparagaceae and then take the whole department out for drinks for the rest of the day. Which is why I'm happy to ignore the possible existence of (for example) the Xanthorrhoeaceae, which is sickeningly difficult to type anyway,5 and follow their lead. If taxonomic consensus changes later, as it surely will, well, at least I know I didn't waste a lot of time learning useless information.6

So if you're ever in a situation where you have to name a houseplant's family, and you have no idea -- which, okay, I can't think of any plausible scenarios when that might happen, but you never know -- guess the Asparagaceae. Everybody else is.

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1 Okay, it's not that tough of a decision: GRIN and Tropicos are the best bets, because Wikipedia and davesgarden.com collect their information from their users, and one hopes that GRIN and Tropicos have higher standards than that. And the book, being from 1958, doesn't really have a chance of being correct. But still -- unless I'd heard otherwise at some point, I used to assume that family assignments were fairly solid, and that information from one source ought to agree with information from the others, so frequently I only looked at one source and went with whatever it said. So in a lot of cases I didn't know what GRIN and Tropicos said.
2 (In order, references are: Wiki, dave, GRIN, Tropicos. When there's a fifth, it's the 1958 book.)
3 Mostly I'm assuming it's up to date because it includes such personal bugbears as the reclassification of Dracaena marginata as Dracaena reflexa var. angustifolia, which is so obviously wrong that I refuse to accept it, and I am confident that future taxonomists are going to back me up on this one. Sadly, the more plausible substitution of Dracaena fragrans for D. deremensis is there too: I'm reluctant to give up the name D. deremensis.
4 Original source of this line: Sady Doyle. Ordinarily I wouldn't give credit, but ordinarily I'd try harder to change the line to make it my own, too. Also I think Sady is awesome.
5 Seriously, like two thirds of the name is "aceacaceaeceae." How are my fingers supposed to keep that straight? I suppose at least I can be grateful that I'll probably never have to prounounce it.
6 For the record, I'm not actually accusing TPL of being lazy. I'm sure they have their reasons for classing all these together, which are all scientifically-based and everything. I'm agreeing out of laziness, though.


Saturday, November 27, 2010

Errata, Taxonomy

For reasons which are too complicated and boring to go into, I was up at 3:30 AM yesterday, and used the opportunity to update links to plant profiles and make some minor changes to old posts. You're not at all obligated to care, but these are them:

  • Aloe maculata is now correctly identified. Posts no longer refer to the synonym A. saponaria.
  • Alworthia 'Black Gem' replaces the earlier, incorrect Aloe 'Black Gem.'
  • Hoya carnosa var. holliana replaces Hoya carnosa 'Holliana.' I'm not sure it's right, but I do at least know that the plant is not Hoya holliana, which is how I had it on the spreadsheet for forever.
  • I am now spelling CalibrAchoa correctly. (It's not CalibrIchoa.) I sort of understand why the ex-boss used to insist on calling them "mini-petunias" even though they're not.
  • Dracaena surculosa replaces the obsolete synonym D. godseffiana.
  • My plant that I thought was either Aglaonema 'Silver Bay' or 'Emerald Bay' was identified in the comments to the Aglaonema profile as A. 'Emerald Bay' by a very confident-sounding Anonymous person, so I changed that.
  • Aloe x 'Dorian Black' makes more sense than A. x 'Doran Black,' so the plant I'd been calling Doran is now being called Dorian, except that it might not be that either. I don't have a positive ID for it, I've never had a positive ID for it, and I don't anticipate having a positive ID for it in the future. But if I have to guess, and kinda I do, then I'm going with 'Dorian Black.' (UPDATE: Actually it's 'Doran' after all. This has since been corrected.)
  • Aloe vera is in fact the current correct name for Aloe barbadensis, I think just to spite me; older posts have been changed accordingly.
  • During the research for the Ficus elastica profile, I ran into a number of sources that made it sound more dangerous to children and pets than the other Ficus species. Consequently, I changed the posts in the houseplant toxicity posts to reflect this: Ficus elastica is now in the Potentially Dangerous category, rather than the Unpleasant category. The other Ficuses remain in Unpleasant until I hear something to change my mind.
  • I finally got around to changing Carludovica 'Jungle Drum' to Asplundia 'Jungle Drum.' Even if the plant is usually sold as Carludovica, I think the plant is much more likely an Asplundia.
  • Somehow, I dropped an "i" from Pilea nummularIIfolia. This is probably because nummularifolia makes a lot more sense, even though it's wrong.
  • Ficus maclellandii replaces Ficus binnendijkii, though I very much preferred saying and typing binnendijkii.
  • The dumb-sounding Anthurium andrAEAnum is apparently correct; I'll be really lucky if I can remember not to spell it andrEAnum, like I've been doing for the last three years.


Thursday, September 2, 2010

Pretty (?) pictures: Tacca chantrieri flower

The ex-job has gotten some Tacca chantrieri plants in, in bud. They're surprisingly big, maybe three feet (0.9 m) tall, with multiple flowers and buds. I didn't get any pictures of the whole plant, because when I was thinking of it, there were people in the way, and then when there weren't people in the way anymore, I forgot I'd intended to. But I did at least get photos of the flowers.

The plants themselves have big, broad, green leaves with maybe a slight iridescent/metallic shine to them. (See davesgarden.com pics here and here.) If you didn't know what they were, you'd probably guess a new variety of peace lily. Like peace lilies, they're still attractive when not in flower.


We never get them for sale around here -- these are the first ones I've seen in the area, as far as I can remember, in the three or four years that I've been going around to look at different garden centers -- and these weren't too ridiculously priced. I don't remember how much they were, but it wasn't outrageous. I was, however, not even a little bit tempted, because my understanding is that they're fussy as hell.

WCW had one, or maybe two, plants that she brought from home to overwinter in the greenhouse a couple years ago. They didn't make it, and if I remember correctly it wasn't the first time she'd tried. If WCW can't grow something, the odds are very good that I can't either, so I wasn't tempted at all.


There are at least three other Tacca species: T. integrifolia is also occasionally cultivated as a houseplant, and then davesgarden.com also lists T. nivea and T. leontopetaloides. They all have the same structural plan for the flowers: three large bracts, a bunch of "whiskers" extending out and down, and then a batch of true flowers in the middle of the whole thing. None of the pictures in this post show the true flowers completely opened: they're all flexed back away from the flowers' centers, which are the weird things with the red balls in them.

The genus is also of interest to me for being one of very few words that a person can spell using only the letters of the bases in DNA, which are A, C, G, and T. You can spell a, at, cat, tag, gaga, act, tact, and that's about it for real everyday words. Caca, maybe, if you include Spanish words. Tata or Ta-ta if slang's allowed. GATT if we permit acronyms.


Tacca also works, for a fifth letter, and if movie titles are permitted then you can get as far as the seven-letter Gattaca (which wasn't a word until the movie, but I think it counts now) before you hit a wall.

So if anybody discovers a fifth species of Tacca, I would very much appreciate it if they would name it Tacca gaga, Tacca gattaca, Tacca attacca (TACK-ah ah-TACK-ah), Tacca gagaccat (TACK-ah GAH-gah-cat -- which would also be a palindrome, for triple cool points), or something along those lines. I can be flexible on the exact name; I just care about the letters.

I thank the Tacca taxonomists of the world for their time and attention.