Joyful Unwinds

Day 15: My Adeniums were getting too leggy, so it was with great trepidation that I decided to prune one back in the hopes that it would sprout a new "head." Typically, the showy, large-flowered Adeniums sold by nurseries are grafted plants, hybrid stems grafted onto sturdier rootstock, much like what is done with fruit trees. I was careful not to take it back as far as the graft (pretty obvious, really), and then sat back to see if my experiment was going to be successful before jumping in to prune all the plants. I covered the cut with candle wax to ensure against rot or disease, and was heartened when six months later, a tiny leaf bud appeared just below the waxed tip. Leaves developed over the next several months, and then when the plant's blooming time arrived, it put out a few buds. Emboldened by my success, I pruned the other two plants, one "head" at a time over the seasons. Now all my Adeniums are under a foot tall, and each stem has its "Tina Turner" hairdo of leaves at the top of otherwise bare sticks, and all have bloomed again. "Joyful" is unwinding its pink minaret even as I write.

Good Old Reliable Carnosa

Day 316: Hoyas are rewarding houseplants, if (and note this well) you happen to be one of the many people who can grow them successfully. I'd have thought it was impossible to do otherwise, but I have a few friends (you know who you are) who say they can kill them without half trying. Admittedly, I have a few of the more obscure members of the genus which I have not been able to bring into flower, but for the most part, they grow well for me. Hoya carnosa (above) is the type most commonly found in plant stores, sometimes alongside its variant H. carnosa compacta, aka Hindu Rope Plant. For the record, I do not own a compacta, an oversight I may need to remedy. My most prolific bloomer is of course H. bella, the "miniature" Hoya. Following shortly on its heels is bronze petalled H. fitchii, and further down the line by the red-flowered H. ilagiorum. Oddly, good old reliable everybody-owns-one H. carnosa falls in fourth place. Still, there's nearly always a Hoya in bloom among my collection.

Clivia

Day 131: Who needs Amaryllis when you can have Clivia instead? Okay, the plant has to be at least seven years old before it will flower (and this one was closer to 12), but it holds its foliage all year long and you don't have to fuss with providing any special care for the bulb. Clivias can be set outdoors in the summer, but they are also entirely comfortable with life on a shelf indoors as long as they're in a cool room during the winter. They prefer partial shade if outdoors, a north or west window if they're to be raised as houseplants as mine is. They are available in a variety of colours in the white/yellow/orange range, with some being more expensive than others. And they're not cheap these days! Fortunately, I got mine before they became something of a fad. This plant has been in bloom for over a month now, brightening the Loom Room when I look up from my weaving. It still has a couple of buds hiding beneath the open ones.

In Sync

Day 21: If there was an Olympic competition for synchronized blooming, my cacti would have taken silver, only missing gold because Picotee didn't quite stick the landing. Evidently a little fatigued by putting on a spectacular show, the pink-edged flowers were already starting to fade a little by the time White was in peak form. All three are sitting in my kitchen window at this point, perhaps not completely safe from prying paws, but Somebody has gotten so lardy, I can hear when he jumps up on the counter. He doesn't do it often now, but for a while, I thought I was going to have to find homes for my houseplants. At any rate, my team of cacti are performing excellently this year, albeit a bit early for the holidays.

Joyful

Day 344: Given that most of the year is spent nursing along what appears to be 12-18" long sticks with a few leaves at the top, spraying them daily and watering the soil only when the pots become quite light, I have reason to be joyful when my Adeniums come into bloom. Indeed, "Joyful" is this one's varietal name, and it should be noted that all or nearly all of the large-flowered types of Desert Rose are grafted plants or reproduced with cuttings, although the question of "chicken or egg" sticks in my mind because somewhere there surely was a seed which produced the first plant with 3" flowers. In any event, I have not seen non-grafted plants with supersized blossoms for sale, although I have seen the small-flowered African native species offered. That said, anyone walking past my sunny, south-side kitchen window would probably wonder why I have sticks in flower pots occupying the ledge. Well, this is why.

Fitch Goes Nuts

Day 291: Hoya fitchii has gone berserk! There must be at least twenty umbels in various stages of opening, almost more flower than foliage on this, my most productive hoya ever, and that includes Hoya bella. The fragrant flowers are somewhat paler than previously, but still have a coppery-yellow hue with dainty magenta centers. I can't account for why this blooming period has produced so many, since I have not changed the manner in which I handle the plant's watering/feeding at all, other than to raise the pot a bit higher so it's out of Merry's reach.

Adenium Joyful

Day 267: Adenium "Joyful" joins "Plum Beauty" in filling my kitchen window with its showy flowers now, each bloom 2.5-3" across, albeit held aloft on nearly leafless 16" stems. What these "Desert Roses" lack in the foliage department is more than made up for by their floral displays. That said, daily misting has made an substantial improvement in the quality of new leaves, although I still feel they might benefit from even more frequent misting, maybe twice a day (at least when the window gets the hottest sun). Currently, I'm trying to find the right balance in demands for the spray bottle. Who needs it more? The plants or the kitten? It's become my Weapon of Choice for reminding the small hellcat of his manners.

Variegated Hoya Carnosa

Day 261: Hoya carnosa is the hoya you're most likely to find in garden stores and plant shops. It comes with two foliage colour variations: plain green and varigated green and white. It bears large umbels (this one is almost four inches across) with a light fragrance. As houseplants go, it's virtually indestructible, although I have friends who claim they have never been able to grow one. I suspect the problem may lie in over-watering rather than under-watering, since this group of plants likes to go almost entirely dry between waterings.

Plum Beauty Desert Rose

Day 259: My Adeniums are doing better insofar as hanging onto their foliage now that I've begun misting them daily. It stands to reason. They are a desert plant which in the natural setting receives very little moisture other than that in the air. However, when they are too dry, the leaves will drop or be stunted and curled. I won't say I have the magic formula, but at least they no longer resemble the potsful of sticks which make my friends wonder why I bother. "Plum Beauty" is a grafted cultivar. Mine is the tallest of the three Desert Roses living in my south-exposure kitchen window sill, a sheer delight to behold while I'm at the task of dish-washing.

Hoya Fitchii

Day 219: Hoya fitchii is doing his thing again, and although the flower heads aren't as big as those on Hoya carnosa, what they lack in size is more than balanced by the striking colour. Hoyas come in an astonishingly wide assortment of foliage types, and a good selection of flower hue as well, although all on the "warm" side of the spectrum. Some produce open heads with only a few individual blossoms. Others may display clusters 4-6 inches across. Some species have flowers which emerge from leaf axils, but other varieties (like Fitch) carry their blooms on the ends of spurs. Foliage may be mottled, variegated, smooth, fuzzy, round and short, long and pointed, and it may climb supports, drape over its planter or creep along the ground. Some bloom once a year, and others may flower intermittently over three seasons. Not all of them bloom readily, though. Of the seven species in my small collection, two have never flowered, but I remain hopeful that some day, they'll surprise me.

Picotee Beauty

Day 46: Every year at this time, I'm faced with a problem. I don't think it's proper to play favourites in any event, but when my Christmas cacti start blooming, I lean toward whichever one is flowering at the moment. Yellow has gone through its cycle now, and White is still open. Picotee just popped and...well, there's that dilemma I was talking about. Certainly, Picotee is the showiest of the three, but Yellow is the rarest, and White is both unusual and dramatic. And, if I want to be perfectly honest here, I do have a couple of the standard colours which, although they're brought out to the living room for show, never draw quite the same admiration as my three "best kids."

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.

Sneaky Bloomers

Day 30: Sneaky! That's what these two are. The fault was purely mine, though. I didn't rotate them as regularly as I should have during the summer, so when they came into bloom, it was on the sides facing the window. You can also see that Yellow got a little more sun exposure than usual, hence the pink tinge to part of the flower. My "Christmas" cacti live in the Loom Room, the only window space I have for them, and it's a small one. They're all crammed together on one shelf, so it's easy to miss burgeoning buds on the light-coloured ones. When I do notice that they're ready to bloom, they're moved to the place of honour on the fireplace mantel, but the body of the house is too warm for them to remain there for the rest of the year. For the best blooms, these plants require cooler nights, especially during the winter.

Hoyas Galore!

Day 337: While I can't claim that all four of these were in bloom simultaneously, they were all in flower over the last fourteen days! Different Hoya species bloom on different schedules. Some flower intermittently every six weeks or so, with longer periods of rest during their "off" season. Others only put on their displays once or twice a year. Hoya bella (lower right) was the first in this batch, and the flowers were just beginning to fade when H. ilagiorum (lower left) opened. Ilagiorum remained open as H. fitchii's clusters (top right) began to form, but the real surprise was when good ol' standard Hoya carnosa variegata joined the parade. It had never bloomed for me before. Its cluster is palm-sized, with individual flowers fully 3/4" in diameter! Fitchii had not fully faded when it opened, a succession of Hoyas in bloom like none I've experienced before. All four species are purportedly of the "intermittent" type. Whatever I'm doing, I must be doing it right.

Hoya Ilagiorum In Encore

Day 269: Hoya ilagiorum is giving an encore performance with a single dense cluster of flowers which seem to be getting redder with each successive blooming period. An intermittent bloomer, it's been six weeks since the plant was in flower, a schedule it will probably keep for at least one more early autumn display. Once the summer flush is complete, it will enter a rest period for a few months. Many Hoyas have a specific seasonal bloom schedule, but my three favourites (H. ilagiorum, H. fitchii and H. bella) flower several times each year. Reputed to be almost indestructible, I have managed to kill one or two over the years as have a few of my friends, but generally speaking, Hoyas are tolerant of neglectful conditions and even benefit from their planting medium being allowed to dry out. In any event, ilagiorum is thriving under my somewhat casual care, and I would recommend it for anyone who wants a Hoya of a different colour.

Hattie's Cousin Rhip

Day 246: Recently, I featured Hatiora rosea in a post, and discussed the taxonomic shifts the species has undergone. Some authorities refer to it as Rhipsalidopsis or even Schlumbergera. The same debate rages over a similar group of epiphytic cacti. For no scientific reason other than dissimilar foliage to that of Hatiora, I choose to refer to these as Rhipsalidopsis. Sometimes, you just have to put your foot down with those dang taxonomists! This, therefore, is Hattie's cousin Rhip. Rhip is supposed to bloom at Easter, but he's decided to go full bore now instead. Although the species (Rhipsalidopsis gaertneri) comes in a range of warm colours from pink/lavender to peach, rose and white, this flame-red version is my favourite. It can be brought into bloom more easily than Hatiora, even if it doesn't follow the calendar.

Clivia In Full Glory

Day 245: Some things deserve a second mention. It has now been 12 days since the Clivia's first flower opened. That initial blossom has dropped, but five more have replaced it and there are three still in bud. Although Clivia belongs to the same family as Amaryllis and resembles that popular winter-blooming plant in both foliage and flower, its habits are dissimilar. Clivia does not have a fully dormant period like Amaryllis, and holds onto its leaves year-'round. It grows from roots rather than from a bulb, and prefers lower light than its cousin. However, it does require a rest period during which time it needs cool nighttime temperatures and less frequent watering. The normal flowering period for Clivia is in March or April, according to everything I've read, so perhaps mine still needs to adjust its schedule. After all, it took twenty years of sitting in the shaded west window of my bedroom before this beauty decided to put on a show.

Hatiora Rosea

Day 235: We could debate the taxonomy all day. The currently accepted nomenclature for this cactus is Rhipsalidopsis rosea, with Schlumbergera rosea and Hatiora rosea listed as synonyms. It was Hatiora when I first learned it shortly after the internet became "a thing" and I was able to research the plant after cultivating it for a decade or so, and thus it became "Hattie" for short. Some of my plants have nicknames like that: Fitch (Hoya fitchii), Knob (Ceropegia woodii), Bella (Hoya bella). Hattie earned her moniker when she bloomed after spending years as a tangled mass of prickly stems. She'd been known as my "Swedish Christmas cactus" before that, solely because I'd been given a slip by a Swedish friend. Then, as I mentioned, the internet came along and I was able to determine her real name: Hatiora rosea. However, her name was not carved in taxonomic stone, or else taxonomic stone is in the same mineralogical category as talc. In any event, the next time I looked up "Hatiora rosea," she'd undergone a name change. Neither "Schlummy" or "Rhippy" suits her, so Hattie she remains.

A Twenty-Year Wait

Day 233: Twenty years. Twenty years, or maybe even more. That's how long I have been waiting for this to happen. My Clivia is finally blooming! I had just watered it a few days ago and didn't notice buds, but neither was I looking for them. I mean, the Clivia has been nothing but strappy, amaryllis-like leaves for as long as I've had it. Why would I bother to look for buds? A friend had one which bloomed regularly in her north window with very little care, so I figured it would be easy to bring one into flower. Ah, how wrong that assumption was! When mine got too big for its pot, I divided it and tried planting one of the pieces outdoors, a system the experts assured me would result in flowering once I brought it inside for the winter. The experiment failed miserably and that offshoot ("pup") died, but I had kept the second piece in a smaller pot and it was still doing well. Or rather, it was producing healthy leaves but nothing else, and so it continued for at least ten years beyond the division. I resigned myself to thinking of it as a foliage plant. My enforced patience has at long last been rewarded. My Clivia is blooming!

Hoya Ilagiorum

Day 230: While Hoya fitchii was trying to impress me with massed blooms, Hoya ilagiorum was preparing to enter the competition for "Most Colourful." Ilagiorum took its own sweet time to form and hold its first flowers, but once it figured out the procedure, the inflorescences have been becoming larger with each successive flowering period. They have also become richer in colour, more like the "red" depicted in the catalog. Although Ilagiorum only put on two clusters on this round, they were quite fragrant. Both species flower on woody spurs which must not be removed since new flowers form at the spurs' tips. This is characteristic of many (but not all) Hoyas.