It amuses me to see people on Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day1 apologizing for not having anything blooming in December and January and pretending this is inevitable. ("Nothing blooms in the winter! What am I supposed to do?") It's even funnier when they get creative with the definition of "flower" and try to pass off photos of sundresses, wallpaper, or used Kleenexes as flower substitutes.2
I suppose the people who do this probably don't mean to be insulting,3 but I am a little bit insulted, because comments like that basically tell me that not only are these people not growing anything inside, but growing stuff inside isn't even part of their reality, not even an option. Which means, more or less, that I am not part of their reality either.
Flowerlessness is far from an inevitable winter condition. As PATSP readers have seen over and over and over and over and over and over again this winter, flowerlessness is completely evitable.4 Granted, not all of said flowers are particularly pretty. But they are still flowers. And if pretty is what you're looking for, there are any number of plants out there which will give you gorgeous indoor winter flowers if you are so inclined. Paphiopedilum, Phalaenopsis, Aeschynanthus, Schlumbergera, Eucharis, Cyclamen -- my gods, there are retailers all over the place who would love you forever if you were to walk in and buy a couple Cyclamen this time of year, when nobody buys anything -- whatever. Winter is not an excuse. It never was. Now go buy an African violet before February 15 or I will come to your blog and kick your ass.
I've never been able to get it together to post for GBBD, since by the time I realize the 15th is coming up, I either have a post scheduled for it already, or it's the 14th and I'm scrambling to find something quick and easy to post. Running around taking pictures of all the flowering stuff would be neither quick nor easy. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have flower pictures to show, if I ever were to get organized enough to participate.
The above is a photo of the Hoya lacunosa flowers whose buds were heralded on New Year's Eve. There is a smell, too, which is floral-perfumey. The husband and I sat around trying to come up with a good way to describe the smell, and batted around various comparisons ("Jasmine?" "Hyacinth?" "Murraya?") until finally he said, "It smells like the inside of a florist's refrigerator." Which was dead-on. Working backwards from there to figure out what florists' coolers smell like, that means it smells mostly like roses, or roses cut with some lily or hyacinth.
There are seventeen plants blooming in the house right now, and this is the only fragrant one: besides it, we've got five different Anthuriums, two different Nematanthus cvv., two of the Spathiphyllum cvv., and then one each of Saintpaulia, Hatiora salicornioides, Tradescantia zebrina, Euphorbia drupifera, Cyanotis kewensis, Plectranthus oertendahlii, and Abutilon 'Bella Pink.' Most of which have had their own posts previously. (The Spathiphyllum-flower post will be coming soonish. I think.)
So there you go, outdoor gardener people. Seventeen flowers in January. Now join me, or I will be forced to scold you even more sternly. And none of us want that.
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1 (Celebrated every month on the 15th, GBBD is when garden bloggers from all over post pictures of whatever is blooming in their gardens. It was popularized by Carol at May Dreams Gardens, who also collects links from participating bloggers to their respective blogs: the GBBD list for January is here.)
2 Exaggeration for comic effect: I have not seen anybody use any of those three specific examples I used. Though I have seen somebody come terrifyingly close to the wallpaper one.
3 And just for the record, Carol herself does not engage in any of these shenanigans herself, and had very nice pictures of Hippeastrum and Ludisia discolor to display for the most recent GBBD. So we are not mad at Carol. Which is good, because Carol is a bigshot garden blogger who could, if angered, crush PATSP like a mealybug.
4 The word "evitable" is courtesy of Mutant Enemy Productions, and was first used in the show "Angel," Season 3, Episode 7 ("Offspring"), in the following manner:
Fred: Can I say something about destiny? Screw destiny. If this evil thing comes, we’ll fight it, and we’ll keep fighting it till we whoop it. Because destiny is just another word for inevitable. And nothing is inevitable as long as you stand up, look it in the eye and say, “You’re evitable.” [beat] Well, you catch my drift.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Random plant event: Hoya lacunosa flowers
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Pretty picture: Crassula ovata flowers
Yesterday, I "should" have stayed home and worked on writing stuff, but I didn't want to. The husband didn't especially want to do whatever it was he was supposed to do either, so we googled for "greenhouse Burlington IA," or something like that, and then took a road trip to Burlington and Mount Pleasant.
In Mount Pleasant, we found a garden center that was going out of business, and so I scored a couple years' worth of Osmocote 14-14-14 fertilizer at half-price. In retrospect, I should probably have grabbed all their vermiculite and perlite too, but it seemed . . . greedy? at the time? But now I wish I had. Ah, well.
In Burlington, we went to two garden centers, and I took this photo at Zaiser's Florist and Greenhouse, who were very nice, and answered questions for me about how old the greenhouse was (built in 1950, and remarkably well-maintained) and other stuff relating to the business. Which was very nice of them. We'll be back at some point in the spring.
Zaiser's also had a blooming Crassula ovata, which I don't think I've seen in person before. It turns out that they look pretty much the same in real life as they do in the pictures, but it's nice to know this as fact, not theory.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Random plant event: Euphorbia drupifera flowers (again)
The Euphorbia drupifera has decided to bloom once more. The blooming of the Euphorbia drupifera is something that's really been covered to death on this blog already, first with crappy pictures in 2008, then with much better pictures in 2009. Now we're back to crappy pictures again, for 2010. But not just crappy pictures, because there is History! also!
Ancient PATSPians celebrated the blooming of the Euphorbia drupifera with feasts of frozen pizzas and rum-and-cokes, followed by live cricket sacrifices offered to the Anole god, Ninahuatetl. Then they watched TV. According to legend, the five brown petals (bracts?) of the Euphorbia flower represent the five shitty commercial network TV stations of the ancient PATSP civilization (ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, and Paramount/WB/CW/"other"), and the paired thorns below each leaf refer to "rabbit ears," or "antennas," which were stick-like devices made of metal which attached to the television set, probably as part of a ritual to increase crop and livestock fertility (nobody really knows, though).
The exact date of Drupifera's Day moves around the calendar, but typically happens in the second half of January or the first half of February. We're fairly traditional observers here, though we substitute Dr. Pepper for Coke. Because I like it better. And also we skip the turtle-curling, for animal-cruelty reasons, and also because it's usually cold outside.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Random plant event: Callisia fragrans flower bud
The winter of previously-unseen flowers continues, apparently, with Callisia fragrans. Supposedly, one needs greenhouse-like conditions in order to get these to bloom indoors, or at least that's what Google says Glasshouse Works used to say. I don't think the plant room is really all that greenhousey, or at least it's not as greenhousey as I would like sometimes, but clearly it's working out somewhat.
I've never seen the flowers before in person; I've barely ever even seen the plant. WCW has a very large one, and obviously I have one (which I obtained through a trade), but I've never seen one for sale in a store. I like the plant, but I kind of understand why they're not more common: its habit is weird, and kind of unwieldy: little rosettes of leaves at the end of crazy-long runners that flop all over and get tangled in things. Still. The flowers are supposed to be fragrant, and it's incredibly easy to grow. I'll let you know if it lives up to the hype when they open.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Pretty picture: Tradescantia zebrina flower
If all goes well, today will be the last day of plant-watering for this particular cycle, after which point I will be able to write for the blog again. I'm hoping to get the Phalaenopsis profile up relatively soon (UPDATE: Done!), though I will have to write a lot of it first, unfortunately: I had only barely begun on it when the plants started going dry. I have 42 posts sitting in Blogger right now as drafts, waiting for me to get to them, and instead all I do is water. Clearly I've made a bad life decision or two, somewhere along the way. (Looked around the house at some point last week and was like, holy crap, how did all these plants get in here?)
But anyway. One of the Tradescantia zebrinas has been trying to bloom off and on for the last month or so. It's not the most fascinating flower. Very similar to the Cyanotis kewensis flowers, actually, just a little less fuzzy and pink instead of blue-purple. But I think it still qualifies as pretty.
I was occasionally asked, at work, how to convince a wandering Jew to bloom, and I never had a particularly good answer, because I've never been able to discern a pattern to it. Bright light seems to be necessary, though not enough by itself. It doesn't appear to be related to day length or temperature that much either, because the ones at work flowered at all times of the year. Fertilizer, maybe? It wouldn't surprise me if fertilizer was the key to flowers. Googling yielded no answers. Clearly more experimentation is in order.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Random plant event: Kalanchoe bracteata 'Silver Teaspoons' propagation
Some Kalanchoes, like K. tomentosa, K. orgyalis, and K. bracteata, are able to produce a new plant from a single leaf, and I've seen this process get started any number of times and then abruptly fall to pieces. And most of the Kalanchoes I've had (the above three, plus gastonis-bonnieri, luciae, and beharensis) don't get along that well with me anyway, for one reason or another. So I'm trying not to hope for too much here, but this leaf got broken off of the original plant some time back, and I figured it was worth a shot to try to propagate, and so far here's what we have:
There are also a few baby plants in the pot with the original, also from dropped or broken leaves, which will (I hope) go on even if this one doesn't. It's a nice enough plant. In fact, considering how I've historically gotten on with Kalanchoes, which have a tendency to die of Teh Ugly, it's a fucking amazing plant. We'll see how it works out.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
List: Houseplants Which are Highly Prone to Spider Mites
There's no official or definitive list for this; spider mite susceptibility isn't something I've ever tried to quantify. That said, though, there are definitely some plants which are more likely to have mites when you buy them, or more likely to develop a raging case of mites once you get them home.
Thick-leaved succulent plants and cacti tend not to have mite problems; spider mites don't seem to be able to pierce their thicker, waxier epidermises. Consequently, the plants most susceptible to mite attack have broad, thin leaves (like Musa or Dieffenbachia) instead of small, fleshy ones (like Crassula or Hoya). Certain families are apparently also a lot tastier than others; the Araliaceae, Marantaceae, and Apocynaceae seem to be particularly delicious.
(I realize that it would probably be a lot more useful to the reader to present a list of plants which are highly resistant to spider mites, as opposed to plants highly susceptible to them, but that's actually much tougher to do. Even if I've never seen a bad mite infestation on, say, an Aglaonema, I can't really be certain that they're that resistant. Maybe the Aglaonemas with whom I've personally been acquainted have just been really lucky, you know?)









Severity of infestations vary, enough that I really adore some of the above, and refuse to let others in my home. I consider Cordyline fruticosa worth the trouble, and both Pachypodium and Strelitzia are welcome, because they tend not to get out of control mite populations as rapidly as others on the list. Codiaeum variegatum, on the other hand, is a definite planta non grata here, mostly (though not entirely) because of its attractiveness to mites, as are Hedera helix, Calathea spp., and Alocasia spp. All four of those gave us ongoing, substantial problems where I used to work, to the point where I stopped bringing them in. (They've started ordering them again since I left, though, with predictable results.)
Am I missing anything? Let me know in the comments.
Not pictured:
Acorus spp. (sweet flag, Japanese rush)
Adenium obesum (desert rose)
Alternanthera spp. (including A. dentata 'Purple Knight')
Aspidistra elatior (cast-iron plant)
Breynia disticha cvv. (snow bush, snow on the mountain)
Brugmansia cvv. (angel's trumpet)
Chamaedorea seifrizii (bamboo palm)
Cissus rhombifolia (grape ivy)
Colocasia cvv. (elephant ears)
Datura cvv. (devil's trumpet)
Dieffenbachia spp. (dumb cane)
Dracaena marginata (Madagascar dragon tree)
Dracaena thalioides
Gardenia jasminoides (gardenia)
Hedera canariensis (Algerian ivy)
Heliconia psittacorum cvv.
Hibiscus rosa-sinensis (tropical hibiscus)
Impatiens spp. (impatiens)
Jasminum sambac (jasmine)
Maranta leuconeura cvv. (prayer plant, rabbit tracks)
Musa spp. / Ensete spp. (ornamental banana)
Plumeria cvv. (frangipani)
Polyscias balfouriana (balfour aralia)
Polyscias fruticosa (ming aralia)
Primula vulgaris (primrose)
Ravenea rivularis (majesty palm)
Schefflera arboricola (umbrella tree)
Schefflera elegantissima (also known as Dizygotheca elegantissima) (false aralia)
Stromanthe sanguinea cvv.