Stay Awhile

My friend G. is always starting new plants—in the pots of her larger, older plants. With her in mind, as I’ve found severed spider plantlets, I’ve laid them on the soil in the large croton’s pot until I had a chance to pot them in their own home. They benefited from the croton’s watering and have stayed alive.

Then, closer to G.’s practice, I decided that they might actually look nice circling the pot and cascading their own babies down the side, so I dug little holes in the soil and tucked them in. One was so enterprising that its roots had already taken hold but I redirected it.

Getting Rid of Excess

When Creeping Jenny creeps it can get leggy and leafless, so I cut out the excess at a node (place where leaves emerge) at each end—so it can either branch or sprout roots.


I pushed a pencil (we always seem to have plenty) into the soil to make a space for the cuttings to grow. I’m trying these cuttings in an indoor pot for the first time to see if they’ll grow inside. If not, I’ll take them outdoors. My friend G. often puts cuttings of this and that in her big pots along with the big plants—she would probably say that they keep each other company.


Creeping Jenny roots easily so these two cuttings should make a nice cascade down the side of the Hawaiian Ti plant’s home in no time.

Yesterday and today are the kinds of days, sunny and warm, when it’s a pleasure to do almost anything though it got to 82 degrees yesterday! And it’s only mid-March. But it’s good. ☺

Started from a cutting of a bedding plant last year, this Creeping Jenny (rounded yellow-green leaves) is already on its way; it won’t be long until it’s growing down the side of the pot. All I had to do is stick the cutting in the dirt and water it—the kind of propagation I like best.

I began growing Jenny for its color; the yellow-green gave a bit of relief from all the green-green leaves. I’ve also found that its cascading habit gives green on a new level and I like to vary the size and shapes of leaves among the plants. The picture shows Jenny’s rounded leaf shape contrasting with the more pointed leaves of Sweet William and Victoria Blue Salvia. Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that before; we have Jenny, William and Victoria.

Beyond Corsages

I was having such a good time in my art studio this morning that I didn’t want to leave so I’m running a bit late in posting today.

When I was a child I thought that the orchid corsages that all the ladies loved to wear for Mother’s Day and weddings were ugly. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would like yellow green or brownish pink flowers. Now that I’ve gotten to know some of the vast orchid family (the largest genus of flowers on earth), I’m smitten by them. From the yellow green and, brownish pink cymbidiums to the floaty white and fuchsia phalaenopsis or moth orchid, I can’t get enough. I love to paint them—especially the wildly colorful ruffled cattleyas in orange, magenta, red, photographing them at a local university greenhouse.

I attempt growing phalaenopsis—with hope, and I do well with growing their leaves once the flowers are spent. Alas, it’s orchid bloom season but my phalaenopsis isn’t blooming though it did make a new plant. I’m afraid to separate the two but maybe one day I will; I keep hoping the new one will bloom though if it did the flower stalk would come out upside-down. Maybe I can find some fertilizer* that’s not too chemically.

*My botany professor also insisted that, “fertilizer is not plant food—it’s fertilizer!”

Remember Lazarus?

Remember Lazarus, the nearly dead spider plantlet I found and rescued last summer? I had noticed while watering that a stem (or “umbilical cord”) from the main plant had somehow dried up so I followed it to its end and found a shriveled gray-green, though more gray than green, plantlet. I planted it in soil and watered it—just in case…This picture shows a slightly improved version of its condition. As it began to revive, I named it Lazarus after the man Jesus raised from the dead after Lazarus was in the grave for four days.


The biblical Lazarus was a marvel everyone wanted to see (John 12:9). The people had seen Jesus raise others and they knew of the prophets Elijah and Elisha having raised people from the dead but those were “immediate” raisings--shortly after the person had died. This one though, was really big since, as the King James Version has Martha, Lazarus’ sister say, “He stinketh”. Not to be too indelicate but Jesus not only raised Lazarus from the dead but he rebuilt and restored that which was being destroyed by decomposition (John 11:39). The Lord’s specialty is rescuing the people he created from destruction. No matter how bad a person’s life “stinketh”, Jesus can clean it up (Hebrews 9:13) and make it new—transform it (Yes, he still literally raises dead people to this very day). He loves doing it because it gives glory to his Father—what motivation (John 14:12-14)!

Lazarus the spider plant, as it is now bears little resemblance to the gray, shriveled plantlet I found and rescued; now that it has life pouring into it again from soil and water—it’s like a new plant!

*You can copy and paste any of these Bible references (or any others) into the search box at http://www.biblegateway.com and the scripture will come up.

Meet Oskar

Oskar isn’t a puppy or a kitten but a red amaryllis bulb. Oskar is the variety name for this giant red and there are undoubtedly millions of them—but then there are millions of Davids and Anns too. One of my garden books says that the best bulbs are sold by name rather than color; the named ones are grown “vegetatively” while the ones sold by color are grown from seed and not as good a quality*. The Latin name for amaryllis, Hippeastrum, is variably defined as knight on a horse, knight star or horse star (because it’s so big).

It’s been awhile since I’ve grown an amaryllis but I decided that it would be nice to have one for Christmas, and to share its growth with you.

I bought Oskar at a giant home improvement store, checking through several boxes to find one that had sprouted a bud rather than only leaves—sometimes if leaves come first, that’s all you get.

Boxes and boxes were stacked shoulder high; red, red & white striped, pink, pink & white, white & pink as well as white vied for attention. I leaned toward getting the deep pink but somehow, in my mind, amaryllis and red always go together—especially at Christmas. Besides, it had a gold-colored pot and I’ve inherited from my great grandmother, a fondness for gold paint.

My first memory of anything to do with amaryllis flowers is the name of the little girl in the movie The Music Man. A pint-sized Ron Howard liked her but was too embarrassed to talk to her since his lisp made her name very difficult to say.


Much later, though as I said, I had grown several amaryllis plants and photographed them and had drawn and painted most any other kind of flower, for some reason I couldn’t draw or paint an amaryllis. But I persisted and accomplished this collage/painting The Lord Turns My Darkness to Light.

*Crockett’s Indoor Garden, James Underwood Crockett; p.12

Resurrection

A day or two ago as I was looking over my airplane plant (aka spider plant, but I don’t call it that since some people are so frightened of spiders, I don’t want to prejudice them), I noticed that one cluster of “babies” was the wrong color and knew something was wrong. Eyes are some of the best gardening tools! As I looked over the limp gray-greenness, I was pretty sure that the plantlet’s connecting branch had somehow been broken. It had.


Airplane plants can be easily propagated from these “babies” but usually only when they’re cut and planted right away. However, I’ve not had success in planting the “dead” ones. But I had a pot of soil and decided that I had nothing to lose if I planted this one. Maybe some TLC would pull it through; would it thrive like others (2nd picture) I had cut and planted—I didn’t know. I potted and watered and put it in the least sunny place in the garden (any difference in sunlight is incremental though since in the afternoon the entire garden is ablaze).


This morning when I checked on it, I was pleased to find that it was making a come-back! It’s not yet fully flourishing like its brothers but it’s on its way—a kind of resurrection. Since the morning some years ago when I collapsed and showed no signs of life until my husband shouted, “Be alive in Jesus’ name!” and I was, I’ve been reluctant to give up too easily. Even when things show no signs of life.

I’ll keep you posted on “Lazarus” airplane plant.