Archive for the ‘bud watch’ Category
We’d been through the drill countless times now: the daily observation, noting time, temperature, bud length as well as diameter. We’d have a bloom tonight, for sure, we thought. We’d taken measurements, called a few friends, planned the drinks and the snacks. We were excited. A twelve-inch blossom was ready to go. We looked forward to a quiet evening of quiet beauty. The previous two nights of open-house were fun and festive and full. Newcomers this year, neighbors and friends who’d never laid eyes on such a creature before, were amazed. It was gratifying, but maybe a bit tiring especially in the heat.
Mid-afternoon the call came: “Something’s wrong,” K. said. ” It looks odd; the bud drooped.” Collapsed in the heat? Who knows?It was hanging, wilted. Had I not watered enough, I wondered. Earlier, a friend had asked, did we ever have a flop? “No,” I said. “Even if no one shows up, we always have the flower.” This night, no one showed up. And we didn’t have the flower. Just the questions, and the sad fact of a failed bud.
Blanca sets the terms. We cannot out guess her. We cannot know for sure, most things. The observer must remain open and neutral. Luckily, we had only called those nearby, and they happened to be away. We had not set in gear any long distance travel to see this non-blooming, non-event. Yet it was an event, in humility.
The seven-year-old plant, is that young or old for an epiphyte?, has spilled a record eighteen buds. They now measure at least three inches and have clearly differentiated bud-head from throat. I spell out the numbers so you know it’s no typo: eighteen buds. One already weakening, not all of these will bloom. But for now, they each hold that promise. Blanca bejeweled as she is in a necklace of fecundity, continues to entrance. The days and nights have been exceptionally warm and humid with only a brief respite this morning. Bud growth, and bud drop will continue as we begin the countdown, and try to predict which night she’ll send out her signal flares.
To what do we attribute this burst of buds: a sudden rain shower? nutrients from the compost filtering through her roots? some perfection of productivity after the first smaller bloom cycle in July? Blanca surprises. Her buds hang like a shower of tears one day, like alluring tassels another. She intrigues; she beckons. We follow blindly…
Well, that’s the best I have to offer from the flowering plant department these days,but perhaps it will suffice. Tiny simple buds are forming on what I’ve always referred to as a pencil cactus, which I thought was a type of Rhipsalis. But since “looking it up,” I discover the plant is known by another name: mistletoe cactus. The pencil cactus is actually a type of Euphorbia, and my plant doesn’t exactly match those accompanying photos. The “pencil” cacti pictured show finer “leaf” growths than the tubular appendages mine develops that look like miniature sausage links. Somewhere along the way, I may have been misinformed and now I’m not actually sure what’s what especially since I’ve never seen the translucent berries the “mistletoe” variety is said to produce after the pale yellow flowers. Hence its name.
Whew! I’ve always enjoyed these flighty little yellow petals flaring like tiny stars, a little pick-me-up in the dark days of winter. The Rhipsalis is another native of the rain forest, and perhaps a distant cousin to Blanca. Why is it we’re always trying to grow rain forest plants in the arid suburbs of the North East? Will these small house plants be all that’s left of the rain forests in ten or twenty years? Meanwhile, I look forward to mistletoe’s “insignificant” flowers blooming soon. And I’ll look hard for any sign of berries. How sweet this eve of Christmas Eve to see the plant in a whole new light. A rose is not just a rose after all. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
We learned about degree days this summer. We didn’t have enough of them, even though it was so hot for most of the season. A sudden dip in temperatures late August from the mid to high 80s down to the 70s likely delayed Blanca’s blooming. But it was a shift I wasn’t entirely aware of. I thought I’d been pretty clever predicting almost infallibly which night Blanca would bloom. I’d put out the word to friends to come for a party, but by 7 :30 p.m. when bud opening should have begun, nothing had happened. The buds remained sealed shut. I tried again the next night. And the next. Then I had to admit those buds really weren’t large enough to open.
Bill, our tree expert friend reminded us how important degree days are to a plant’s growth. Those accumulated days of heat, a certain minimum that must be maintained for plant development are essential. Farmers watch these measurements carefully as degree days also signal when certain insect pests may become mature enough to damage crops. Then out come the pesticides. No such action here. Just the waiting and watching, and the lesson, once again: stay alert; don’t get too far ahead of yourself. Don’t assume ahead of where the plant actually is.
We’d had a furiously busy events schedule the weekend I thought Blanca would bloom. Anticipating her blooming each night was what got me through each day. Then each night she remained closed actually became something of a reprise. Friday, Saturday, Sunday passed with more inquiring phone calls, and more postponements. “Is she blooming, yet?” friends would ask. “Not yet, ” I’d reply sheepishly. “Maybe tomorrow; tomorrow, for sure,” I’d say attempting to regain my footing. But I didn’t really know what was going on. So we waded through the weekend like this wondering when they’d open. Meanwhile, my credibility and certainty seemed to fade.
Once Monday rolled around, the shop events over, we were rested and ready. And so was Blanca, apparently. She rewarded us and a group of new comers with eight glorious blossoms in one night. We lost track counting in the dazzling display. It was a perfect evening to sit out around the beloved Queen of the Night and enjoy each other’s company. On Tuesday one more bud opened, a quiet coda, just in time for cousin Frank’s visit. Another opportunity to sit at the foot of beauty and realize no matter how frenzied I get, there are moments of calm in the storm. Slow down; be observant; don’t assume, she reminds us. The temperatures had cooled, and Blanca’s blooming held off until I could really appreciate it, in a new way, with new friends. All over again, but still learning something new.
Blanca looked ready to bloom, the first and largest bud had indeed reached the 12-inch benchmark…but as we later realized, she needs not only length but mass. Hey, ain’t it the truth? All buds remained closed this evening, skirts twirled tightly around legs, so to speak. Maybe tomorrow. Likely tomorrow, she will fling her skirts open and dance. Some tepals have begun to unfurl. Still the buds must engorge, swell like a tiny balloon filling with air, hope, expectation. Preparing a place. “Who will come to my party?” she asks.
The weaklings have been let go. Their color changed suddenly, losing that vital deep green seemingly overnight. Then they stopped growing. What’s happening within the plant at the vascular level? Why is sustenance no longer being drawn up that particular vein?
Ten buds remain, but further prioritizing is taking place as we move toward “birthday.” One of a pair of twin buds hanging from the same side of a single leaf has lost its green. It’s slipping. We know this happens often in the womb. Fertilized eggs don’t always take, are sloughed off. Nature’s own design.
Meanwhile, those showing promise continue toward the future. The healthy twin sharing a leaf continues on verdant, elongating. Some buds now measure over five inches. One even reached six. We’re looking ahead, always looking ahead.
First summer’s rains this afternoon have cooled temperatures and may slow bud growth. Our birthday count may be off. So many variables. Nights are shorter now. We sense September around the corner.
In high school English classes we spent time working out what I thought were torturous ethical questions which I later learned came from a book called Values Clarification. It was the late ’70s and Murphy was a progressive teacher who helped many kids find their talents. But the ethical problems seemed impossible to me then. If there were ten survivors, but the life boat could hold only seven, who would earn a place of safety? Who would be left behind?
Blanca uses her own economy to determine how many buds she can sustain. This morning it looks like at least three may be let go. Three of thirteen are not thriving. The others have progressed to four inches, while these appear stalled, yellowing and a bit limp. I suspect they will be jettisoned. Nature creates, abundantly, and also destroys indifferently. Remarkably, one of the recent cuttings boasts a 4-inch bud. Last bloom cycle we lost the cutting buds at 3″. We’re going for a record. But it’s it all ready an achievement, a flourishing, no matter what happens tomorrow? We’ve come this far.
Blanca is laden, a lady awaiting, full with buds. Thirteen now hale and hardy measure three inches long. We count them daily, wishing each one will succeed, reach fruition. We’ve begun to speculate about her due date. Nine more days, guessing the rate-of-growth per day, which brings us to the 27th, an old friend’s birthday, a date that still resonates after all these years. Anniversaries. See more at Jean Follain’s poetry collection: A World Rich in Anniversaries, something I read in grad school, too long ago.
So we are engaged, watching the weather, fussing around her, planning again. This could be a momentous inflorescence. There’s a sense of gathering forces, Blanca’s third effort this season to reproduce. Where are the creatures, moths, bats, that would pollinate her flowers? Is this why she keeps producing?
Already the tentacles of circumstance are stretching. Which are the events, the people who will be drawn together with this blooming? We have a busy schedule of events at the bookshop next weekend. We’re making the most of the end of summer season. Is Blanca doing the same? Is this her last pregnancy before Dormition? We count the days, and wait.
“The fineness of things gives the universe nobility.” ~ Jean Follain
We missed the peak of the Pleiades’s meteor shower last night due to cloud cover, but we may have clearer viewing tonight. Meanwhile, Blanca has begun her third cycle of budding and is creating a little meteor shower of her own right here on the back deck. This morning’s count includes 13 buds of at least one-inch on this prolific plant. Abundanza! Even her off-spring, this summer’s propagated plants sport buds, again. Five in all measure at least one inch. What wonders await! We realize that as the buds lengthen some may drop off. Still we anticipate a late great summer extravaganza. Last year’s mid-October blooming showed off eight elaborate blossoms. Will this blooming cycle be a record breaker? Stay tuned!
Just a few days after her triple blooming in a sudden summer downpour, we noticed something sprouting once again. The rain was brief, but very much needed, and left tiny pearls on her petals. It was a hot and steamy evening, and the flower’s late night fragrance hung in the close air. Lines from a supermarket romance? Perhaps. The elements are all there. Add a flute of champagne; some strawberries in a bowl. Friends were enthralled. We were fulfilled. This singular plant beguiling.
And she continues. The mother plant has issued a post script, perhaps. A bud now measuring three inches and swollen at the tip is healthy, full of promise, the plant expressing itself. Buds are sprouting once again on cuttings severed too soon. We’ve been through this before, but this time, one bud has persisted to three inches looking quite sturdy and also rounding at the tip. Other cuttings have again produced a series of budlets tiny just now, but with the advantage of weeks, and more developed root systems, we have hope. Once again.
Late Night Bloomer 