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.

Out On Display

Day 35: They...those...them things... (hold that thought...we'll come back to it in a moment) have been brought out from the weaving room where temperatures tend to be a little cooler in spring and autumn than in the rest of the house, conditions ideal for setting their annual blooms and remaining true to varietal colour. If given too much light or warm nights, the yellow and white types tend to blush pink, and the crimson and scarlet ones lean more closely to one another in hue. I refer to my collection as "the Dragons," with abundant manes and long tongues so like those ornamenting the head of the mythological Chinese beast one sees in parades. Whether they are "Christmas" cacti or "Thanksgiving" cacti is partially a function of photoperodism, i.e., the duration of daylight. Nursery plants are usually forced to bloom in time windows relative to either holiday and are released in batches accordingly.

And now we come to it: are they Zygocacti or Schlumbergeras? Here I must admit to a certain stubborn retrogressive attitude because they were one of the first plants whose scientific name I learned. I must have been all of seven or eight years old at the time, and thought that "Zygocactus" was a wonderful word even though it failed to impress any of my peers (a situation quite common to my childhood). I had not yet discovered the fluidity of taxonomy or I might have been on the alert for the change which came some time in the mid-50s when "Zygocactus" became obsolete and the genus was re-merged with the Schlumbergeras, from which it had been separated in the late 1800s. I went merrily through most of my adult life calling them "Zygocacti," and even now, slip back into the old habit although I know better. "Zygocactus" is still used by many growers as a common name (NB: "common") for these low-maintenance holiday favourites.

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.

Ovaries!

Day 52: Ovaries! I have ovaries! You may recall that roughly two weeks ago, I took my little paintbrush and transferred pollen from a white Christmas cactus to a yellow one. The ovaries of the two receptive flowers are now noticeably swollen. When my husband performed a similar experiment, it took months for the pods to ripen and turn red. As I recall, they hung on the plant for months after that until Bruce's impatience got the better of him and he picked and opened them. They did contain seed, but either he had plucked them before they were fully mature or the seed was not otherwise viable because planting it brought no results. I may not be able to report the outcome of this botanical adventure for a year or two, but at least this phase of it was a success.

Flowering Birds

Day 35: My collection of Christmas cacti is largely populated by the more unusual colours: yellow, white, picotee. I have some red/magenta ones as well, but they bloom later and by then, my eye has become somewhat jaded to their beauty and elegance. It is the flocks of early-flowering hybrids I love best, flying in their birdlike forms and feathery petals to my mantel, there to roost until their season is done.

Many long years ago, my husband (not particularly horticulturally adept) succeeded in cross-pollinating two differently coloured plants. We were both surprised when one of the two developed small reddish fruits, heaxagonal in cross-section and about half an inch long. We expected them to drop, but were again surprised when they held on, matured and dried. Bruce split the pods (it was his experiment, after all) and planted the tiny black seeds with care. Perhaps conditions weren't right, or perhaps the seed was sterile; in any event, after months of waiting and hoping, it became apparent to us that nothing further was going to occur.

As I set the Birds out on dark velvet for their portraits, a shower of pollen dusted the fabric's nap. Thinking of Bruce, I'm going to go get a paintbrush.

Buddies

Day 30: I can't honestly claim that there is something always in bloom at my house, either indoors or out, but there are fairly few dull moments. The Christmas cacti are starting to flare (the yellow and white ones, at least) and the two new Adeniums arrived in bud and seem determined to bloom despite having been transplanted to larger pots. I've made a mash-up of "buddies" here, Christmas cacti in the foreground and Adeniums at the top of the photo, but in full bloom elsewhere in the house are Hoya bella and Adenium Joyful. Plum Beauty is what you would expect from a plat so-named: its blossom will be a rich plum purple. Star Cluster is yellow with broad red stripes central on each petal. I find myself wishing for more shelf space, but that's a dangerous path to walk for a crazy plant lady.

Christmas In November

Day 41: People always seem to be surprised when, after a few years, their "Christmas" cacti (Zygocactus) come into bloom at Thanksgiving. Like many of the flowering plants put out at this time of year, Zygo is easy to force into blooming out of season. If purchased in bloom at Christmas, the plant has undoubtedly been subjected to higher light levels and warmer temperatures in order to fool it into a later blossoming period. Left to its own designs after market, these cacti will revert to their normal flowering period. The bloom time may vary depending on individual conditions, but generally, your "Christmas" cactus is supposed to bloom in November. A second, smaller flush of blossoms often follows in January.

Decorative Edge

Day 44: Knitters, crocheters and lace-makers will be familiar with the term "picot" as it refers to a decorative edge. The French word by itself means "pin," and refers to a lace-making technique which twists threads and winds them around a pin to leave a small loop when the finished lace is taken off the pillow. In knitting and crocheting, something similar is executed in various manners depending on the work. In horticulture, the word undergoes a slight change when it is applied to petals with a distinct border and becomes "picotee," i.e., a flower with a fancy edging. This type of colouration is often seen in begonias, dianthus, ranunculus, cosmos and others, and petunias commonly exhibit this marking in striking reverse to display a distinctly white edge on a richly coloured trumpet. A picotee Zygocactus is a festive addition to any holiday mantel!

Bright Star

Day 32: To encourage bloom and to ensure crisp colour unmuddied by blush tones, Zygocacti should be kept cool during the winter months. While blush doesn't matter much on the pink/red/fuchsia shades, it ages whites and yellows prematurely, and makes them appear as if they're already fading. I keep my Zygos in the back bedroom with a baseboard heater turned down low. Set back from the window roughly 8-12", they receive south light for about six hours a day. Morning and late afternoon light is filtered by trees.

Yellow Leader

Day 29: "This is Yellow Leader. Buds up! Stamens out! We're going into bloom!"

Yellow Zygocactus invariably starts the holidays a little earlier than his companions, although White won't be far behind. Picotee's largest bud isn't quite pea-sized yet, so it will be a few weeks before she puts on a show. The standards are lagging way behind, perhaps feeling a little like they've already been upstaged by the first contestants.

Yellow is not as hard to find these days as it was when I got my first one about thirty years ago. This specimen is a slip from the original. Zygos tend to take over your plant shelf, so I pinch mine regularly and rotate the older plants out into new homes. I prefer to have more varieties in smaller pots than one or two sprangly monsters taking up most of the available space. Not only are they more manageable, having more varieties assures me of a consecutive run of colourful blooms.

Picotee

Day 36: Every year, I have the same debate with myself over which Zygo is my favourite, yellow or picotee. Picotee is flamboyant and appeals to my adventuresome spirit. Yellow has a subtle strength character hidden in its delicate tones. When it comes down to it, they're like two great kids in a family: as different as day and night, but each with unique and exceptional merits. Favourite? You can't choose...unless it's the one in bloom at the moment.

Natural Cycle

Day 30: Every year, I hear people talking about how their November-blooming "Christmas" cacti (Zygocactus) seem to have lost track of what season it is, or that they're getting an early start on the holidays. Nope! The ones you see in nurseries and plant shops have been forced to flower out of their natural cycle by being subjected to a schedule of cool temperatures and limited light. It sometimes takes a couple of years for them to resume their normal activity, but once they're back on track, you can expect a full flush of blooms in November and then a few stragglers again in January. To be sure that they flower the following year, keep them on the cool side (55-60 degrees) through winter.

The Full Suite

Day 35: I can't remember a time when my Christmas cacti have come into bloom simultaneously (not every pot, but every colour), but this year, they've decided to compete. Let's look at each candidate's merits.

Scarlet: She's tried and true, an old-fashioned girl, one of the originals. There's no denying she's brilliant, and that red will stop you in your tracks.

White: Blushing and modest, this delicate maiden brings grace and elegance to any setting. As fragile as she appears, her strength and sturdiness make her a reliable performer.

Picotee: "Flamboyant" is the word which springs immediately to mind when this lady bursts into bloom, but she pulls it off without pretension. In vibrant skirts, she could be a dancer.

Yellow: Novelty is this beauty's long suit, and with it, she'll knock your socks off with her unique and breathtaking hue. She is not at all shy with her displays, producing larger flowers in abundance.

Yellow In Splendor

Day 34: A faint blush keeps me from describing Yellow as "canary," although some years the colour is more true. The blossoms of this variety tends to darken with age more obviously than any of the others, but at first opening, it will enliven any shelf. As I've mentioned before, I'd be hard put to select a favourite, given the options of Yellow and Picotee, though Yellow certainly tries to edge her sister out. Tomorrow, I'll present the full Suite of Four, and you can decide for yourselves!

A Day Of White Surprises

Day 33: The first white surprise this morning was discovering that in response to being brought into a warmer room, White Zygo's largest bud had burst into bloom. Before you can say, "But that's pale pink!" I'd like to explain that the more exotic colours of Christmas Cactus vary in hue from year to year depending on how much light they receive and how cool or warm they've been kept. White nearly always blushes in the growing conditions I provide, and it's such a delicate shade that I can't object to its pinkness in good conscience; a lovely thing deserves admiration, and in fact, she is my strongest grower and largest plant. In contradiction to my expectations as to which would be first to bloom, Yellow looks like it will be last, and will likely open before evening.

As for the other white surprise of the day, it's in my yard: a dusting of snow. 

Second To Bloom

Day 32: Winner of this year's "First to Bloom" award went to Picotee Zygo a week ago, but then the race for second place was on. My money was on Yellow, usually somewhat quicker to mature from bud to blossom, but Scarlet leapt out in front and maintained a strong lead through to the finish line. Looks like Yellow will be coming in third a day or so from now, and White (poor White!) is just coming around the first turn.

I keep my Zygocacti pruned back in order to have space for several varieties, but unfortunately lost Crimson, one of the more common colours. I have not replaced it due to lack of room on their shelf; several pots of Yellow occupy most of the available space. Some day, I'll find an orange one at a price I can afford. I am only aware of one supplier, and they charge shipping fees equal or greater than the value of the plant.

Zygo Pollen Nebula

Day 29: While examining grains of Zygocactus pollen under the microscope today, I was startled by the sudden rupture of one and subsequent expulsion of thousands of microspores in a nebulous cloud. I was immediately struck by the similarity of the microscopic world to that of the macroscopic universe and couldn't resist converting one to the other digitally. The more I think about this, the more convinced I am that there are substantial relativistic overtones. After all, the TARDIS is bigger on the inside than on the outside.

A Closer Look At Zygo

Day 24: Don't have houseplants because you're allergic to pollen? Zygocacti shouldn't be a problem. As you can see from the inset, their pollen grains are smooth and hairless, unlike those which cause many allergies. In fact, many plants' pollen grains look like weapons of warfare; lances, arrowheads, caltrops, maces, morning-stars. Zygocactus pollen looks more like dimpled oranges or slightly misshapen golf balls.

Yes, I couldn't resist taking a look through the microscope when I discovered that Picotee had a fully-open blossom this morning. Of the several colours of Zygo in my collection, she is almost always the first to open, and a showy thing she is for the dismal days of November. She is likely to be followed by Yellow, and like any parent, I don't want to say I have a favourite child, but those two are strong competitors. In any event, I will have a nearly continuous display of Zygos between now and early January, and with any luck at all, Hatiora will join the assembly. I wonder if Hattie's pollen will be a different shape?

Blush

Day 39: I tend to ignore the stock Zygocacti (Christmas red, cerise, vermilion) in preference for the more exotic varieties. And I can't quite tell you which one is my favourite, unless it happens to be what's in bloom at the time. The picotee with its vividly edged white petals is certainly a show-stopper, but the yellow is so unusual that it would be difficult to choose between the two. Then there is "white," in truth a pale shell pink which may deepen depending on the amount of heat and/or light the plant has received during its non-blooming time. Its striking flowers put me in mind of little birds, cockatoos, pink crests and all. Although it lacks the flamboyance of the picotee and the rarity of the yellow, it makes up for it with a delicateness the others cannot claim. Yes, I'd be hard put to decide a favourite among those three.

Christmas In November

Day 32: I would boycott the stores where I saw Christmas merchandise on the shelves prior to Hallowe'en, but I'd go naked and starve if I did. Here at home, however, I don't mind Christmas coming in November when my Zygocacti respond to the transition of seasons. After all, they bloom when they're supposed to bloom once they've resumed their natural rhythms after having been forced into a one-time December display. It might be that they're giving us some sage advice: give from the heart when the time is right, not by the calendar (and certainly not because you feel forced).