Starring Huernia Zebrina

Day 37: Both of my Huernias frequently drop growth segments, but if I put every one of them down in soil to root (which they do quite readily), the limited space on my plant shelf would soon be overwhelmed. However, I feel such pangs of guilt at throwing away a perfectly viable section that I occasionally give in to the impulse to start a cutting. Over the years, I've given a dozen or so to friends, and recently one of those friends posted a photo of his in bloom. It reminded me that I had nearly missed the first flowers on my Christmas cacti because they had been on the window-facing side, so I checked Huernia. Sure enough, there was a star fully open, hiding in a nest of soft-spined stems. The raised disk in the center of the flower is what gives the species its nickname of "Lifesaver Plant," and the stripes on the bloom's pale yellow lobes supply the latter portion of its Latin appellation, Huernia zebrina.

Star Performer

Day 152: This marks one of those rare occasions when I have had to backdate a post, and I hope my readers will excuse the lapse. The heating company was here yesterday, installing a new ductless mini-pump (replacement), and that's enough to disrupt anyone's schedule. Well, except maybe a plant's. Even "intermittent" bloomers follow some pattern. It may be something as simple as length of daylight, soil temperature, chill period and so on, or it may be a complex of factors which even the best science is at a loss to explain completely. Huernia zebrina's calendar falls in the latter category. It blooms when it is inspired to do so, leaving me to say, "Oh, I've got another star!" when it does. Oftentimes, I don't notice the buds. They look rather like new foliar growth in their earliest stage, easy to overlook during watering times. Still, when ol' Lifesaver Plant is of a mind to perform, it does so in a spectacular manner. Only a few days ago, I found this inch-wide stellar phenomenon staring me in the face as I was advancing the warp on my floor loom.

Huernia Zebrina

Day 305: Huernia zebrina (aka Lifesaver Plant) is a star performer among my houseplants. From tip to tip, its blossom measures a full inch and a half. The "lifesaver" in its center is 3/4" across. It blooms sporadically but reliably, coming into flower several times a year. As with my assortment of Christmas cacti, it is moved from the plant shelf in the loom room to a place of honour in my living space when it feels like putting on a display, but sometimes it sneaks a flower in on its window-facing side which I fail to notice until it has faded. This one took me by surprise when I rotated the pot during a watering.

My Yellow Bloomers

Day 129: Wanna see my yellow bloomers? Here they are: Huernia zebrina and (where did we leave off with those damn taxonomists on the Latin?) an encore from the Christmas cactus. My crafts room/loom room faces south and offers one small window for a cactus shelf. It's cooler back there in the wintertime, which is exactly what many cacti need to come into flower. If not engaged in a weaving project, I have been known to miss flowering until withered blooms had fallen to the floor, but as a general rule, when the shelf's occupants decide they want to put on a show, they are moved to the fireplace mantel where I can admire them until they fade. For those of you who may remember the horticultural experiment involving two varieties of Christmas cactus begun over two years ago, Yellow is still holding on to one of the seed pods, and I am patiently waiting for it to mature. The second seed pod dropped without forming seed. I have greater hope for the second, although whether the seed will be viable remains to be seen. Even if it is, I cannot guarantee that the hybrid will even bloom.

Starring Role

Day 50: "Lifesaver Plant" (Huernia zebrina) is another one of those forgiving, go-ahead-and-ignore-me houseplants no one should be without. Unlike its cousin Huernia procumbens, whose sole mission in life appears to be to sprawl with abandon and drop bits of itself in other flower pots, zebrina rewards the lack of care it receives from its grower with displays of star-shaped blooms several times a year. The raised disk in the center of each flower give it its common name, and each one has more freckles on its face than Huckleberry Finn. Starts may be made by taking a section of the foliage and sticking the end down in soil, keeping it damp until it takes root. Indeed, segments may root themselves wherever they touch down. The "spines" are soft rather than spiky. I think of Huernia zebrina as a "happy plant," content to play its starring role without any great coaching on my part.

The Inside Story

Day 222: Outside, my flower beds are blooming lavishly, but my houseplants are telling an inside story. Huernia zebrina (Lifesaver Plant, center) is putting on a stellar show, one star already gone nova and several hovering at the event horizon of a botanical Big Bang. The ... for the moment, let's just call them "Easter cacti," shall we? ... have a profusion of buds and flowers in various stages of development. This brings us now to the rabbit hole of taxonomy, and down we go.

Once upon a time, there was a genus called Schlumbergera. It belonged to the tribe of Rhipsalideae, and its extended numbers included a wide variety of leaf and flower forms. All members of the tribe were more or less epiphytic, which is to say that they liked to grow on trees or rocks, rather than having their roots directly in soil. During the late 1800s, the differences in form led to the creation of a second genus (Zygocactus), into which many of the Schlumbergeras were reassigned. Those which bloomed at Christmas were called Zygocactus; those blooming at Easter remained Schlumbergera. In the mid-1950s, the two genera were recombined, but the name Zygocactus had come into popular use and remains a common name for the Christmas-flowering species to this day (emphasis: I said "common name"). Now enter Hatiora, and another subject of much debate. According to some botanists, Hatiora deserves a unique genus. Others protest that it should remain among the Rhipsalideae.

If I were to make a list of taxonomic synonyms for Christmas/Easter/Hatiora cacti, it would probably achieve critical mass and cause a meltdown. Suffice to say that the different flower forms of the winter vs. spring bloomers supplies me with visual justification for calling Christmas cacti by their common name Zygocactus or scientific name Schlumbergera (not shown), Easter cacti by either Schlumbergera or Rhipsalidopsis as the mood suits me ("Scorpius" shown left), and delicate Hatiora rosea (right, optionally Rhipsalidopsis) by "Hattie," just because she's cute.

Huernia Zebrina, Star Performer

Day 20: Huernia zebrina is one of the star performers in my troupe of houseplants. Also known as "Lifesaver Plant" for the raised reddish-brown disk at the center of its stripy, five-pointed flowers, even its buds (inset) are attractive. Each star measures roughly an inch across and are fairly long-lived after opening. The succulent stems bear short, soft spines and branch readily, occasionally dropping from the parent plant. These "volunteers" root easily if the base is stuck into the soil and kept moist but not wet. The plant blooms intermittently, and took me by surprise today when I made my weekly watering rounds.

Huernia Zebrina, Lifesaver Plant

Day 27: This is the time of year when I struggle to find new material for my daily posts. I find myself wandering pointlessly around the yard, scouting for fungi, patrolling for lichens, desperate for anything noteworthy. I probe the deep recesses of my craft shelves, try to capture cats being silly, but my searches only result in the frustration building when no new or exciting thing reveals itself. And then, where I least expect it, something winks at me. In this case, it was the "lifesaver" eye of Huernia zebrina, hidden among the Zygocacti on the back-bedroom window shelf. Not only did it have one open flower, another one is coming, and several had already dried out and dropped unnoticed, to my utter shame. This cactus makes very few demands of its keeper, just occasional watering and monitoring for mealybugs. Given those requisites, the reward of blooms will be forthcoming. Just don't forget to look!

Starring Huernia Zebrina

Day 197: The unusual shape of Huernia zebrina's inch-wide flower fascinates me. The raised "life-saver" which gives the plant its common name serves to limit access to its reproductive structures to specific pollinator species in the wild. It is native to Africa. Although the flower is said to have an odor of rotting meat, this is not something I have observed even at close range. It is easy to grow; however, flower buds may wither and drop if the plant is allowed to dry out during the budding phase. Otherwise, it tolerates periods of neglectful watering. Propagation is simple: break off a section and bed it to a third of its length in moist soil. Maintain moisture until the slip is well-rooted.

Huernia Procumbens

Day 51: Huernia procumbens has developed its first "pointed star" (the common name attributed to the species), and I am wondering what factors contributed to its deviating from the form shown in the catalog. As a "lifesaver plant," it should exhibit a raised red ring surrounding its center, similar to that found in Huernia zebrina. Could the lack of development be due to the fact that it was transplanted only a month or so ago? No buds were showing at that time. As noted a few days ago, the mature bud was long and pointed, quite different from that of zebrina. If the "lifesaver" had grown normally, would the bud shape have been more like that of its cousin? I will be interested to see how subsequent flowers develop.

Dissection And Discovery

Day 350: After a phenomenal 10-day blooming run, the points of Huernia zebrina's star-shaped inflorescence folded in on themselves, hiding the raised red "donut" in its center (refer to my September 15 post to see the open bloom). Now it was time for some science.

I've been curious about what purpose the "donut" might serve, so I removed it carefully from its point of attachment and made a transverse slice just above the sepals which also removed the reproductive structures. These were not examined. I then sectioned the "star," removing two of the points in order to have a clear view of the tissue of the "donut." I was somewhat surprised to find that it was simply thicker but otherwise appeared to be identical to the tissue of the points. Based on this discovery, I believe that the "donut" serves to restrict access to the reproductive structures to specific pollinators, i.e., those small enough to enter the chamber or those with long tongues (butterflies, bats, humingbirds). To date, I have not noticed any fragrance in the flowers which might draw nectar-feeders, but given the apparent limitations imposed by the "donut," I am inclined to believe that "Lifesaver Plant" is pollinated by nectar-feeding species.

Huernia Zebrina, Lifesaver Plant

Day 338: Huernia zebrina (Lifesaver Plant, named for the donut-like structure in the flower's center) is rapidly turning into one of my favourite houseplants. In the first place, as a member of the cactus family, it's very forgiving of neglectful watering even though it's lived in a hot window all summer. If that didn't win me over, its enthusiasm in putting on a show of bizarrely shaped flowers over a fairly long span of weeks would move it into the top ranks. The blossoms only last a few days once they've opened, but the development of them is fascinating to watch. From the tiny bud just below the dime in the upper image to reach the origami-like star of the middle phase requires almost two weeks. When the flower finally bursts open and the petals furl back from the center, its unusual form is a traffic-stopper. I have yet to dissect one to investigate the interior of the "lifesaver," but I am intensely curious about its role in the plant's biology.

Huernia Zebrina, Lifesaver Plant

Day 307: Earlier this year, I ordered a "Lifesaver Plant" from one of my favourite suppliers. It arrived with several of the smaller branches broken off and loose in the packing, so when I repotted the parent plant, I tucked them into a second pot and have been pleased to see that they all took root readily and began growing. However, I wondered whether or not I'd ever be able to bring this unusual succulent into bloom, and just a few days ago, noticed a single small bud emerging from the parent plant. I expected it to develop slowly, so was caught completely by surprise today when I rotated the pot and found myself being stared down by a huge red eye. At least two more buds are developing on other branches.

According to the information provided by the supplier, Huernia zebrina is easy to grow. I've heard those words too many times to trust them, but in this case, I have to say they proved true. Like most succulents and cacti, Lifesaver enjoys dryness between watering and full sun. Mine sits in the south exposure of my kitchen window where it gets absolutely baked on 85-90° days. Obviously, it's quite happy in that environment! Its blooming cycle is intermittent, and the "lifesaver" in the center of the flower is as large as a nickel; the points surrounding the center extend beyond the rim of an American quarter. The spines on the foliage are soft to the touch, not at all prickly. What a rewarding plant!