A Mountain of Orchids

Playing favorites...

Favorite plant?

What kind of sick, twisted question is that? What sort of cruel, horticultural joke? Who’s your favorite grandmother? Pick a child, any child (but only ONE). Inside or out? Favorite of the day? Of the last five minutes? In this light…?

Some I love because they’re drop-dead gorgeous. Others because they’re ugly. Some I adore for their…well…flowery fragrance. Others for their “eau-de-dead-mouse” uniqueness. Some seem to have everything going for them, and others have just that one quality that sets them apart.


*Orbea variegata*

Is it the putrid Orbea variegata with its star shaped, pale yellow flecked with maroon (or is it maroon overlaid with yellow) flowers? What about the little Australian orchid, Dendrobium torresae with leaves like orzo pasta slowly creeping around the piece of wood it’s mounted on? Passiflora coriacea is still blooming, its quarter-sized, passion flowers of green, yellow and maroon peering out from between stunning, mottled, bat-wing leaves--as wide as a sausage is long.

Ask a millionaire which $1000 she likes best. My guess is that she loves them all. If she can choose, she’s in worse shape than we are. Plants are lucre too. In their own inimitable ways they enrich our daily existence…often far more than a wad of bills in the pocket.


Begonia maculata 'Wightii'

What about Euphorbia obesa? This green baseball of a plant requires a boy and a girl to…you know…make seed. On shape alone, it scores. Begonia maculata 'Wightii', in its spotted pulchritude, needs to be considered. It’s spectacular all the time, not just when it flowers. And little Abrosina bassii, an aroid with all the right stuff (even if it disappears into dormancy for a little rest)--it’s small and the flowers, like genie’s slippers with upturned toes, sit right on the ground, encouraging a peek under the leaves.

Asking for a favorite plant is asking for trouble. The only real answer is a stream-of-consciousness monologue, a rambling discourse skipping from genus to genus, species, hybrid, cultivar—a veritable “can you hear me now” of plant names.


**Avonia quinaria ssp. alstonii**

Maybe it’s the bonsai Olea europa, looking gnarled and ancient, as only an olive tree can. It could be Avonia quinaria ssp. alstonii, the squat little caudiciform, snug in its pot. Its tiny, scaly, octopus arms wave in all directions; balanced atop a fat little caudex. Outsized white flowers open only in the late afternoon--don't miss them. Damn, the Cryptostephanus vansonii (a clivia relative) looks pretty good right now too. It’s bouquet of pale pink flowers is just opening between ranks of long strappy leaves.

Thank God it’s still freezing outside…or I’d never finish. They’re all favorites. Don’t make me choose. Would we really grow anything if there wasn’t at least ONE feature that attracted our attention in the first place? Granted…our attention and affection can only be split so many ways. I guess that’s why plants die from time to time…it opens up a spot for a new favorite.

O.K. There’s a fire. You can only grab one plant. Which do you take?

Me? I go down in flames….

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