Mad Caterpillar

A few weeks ago, while visiting my mother, my stepfather pulled me aside to show me a picture in a book. It was a huge book all about orchids, the type that belongs on a coffee table, filled with glossy color pictures and tons of information. He pointed to the picture in question. It was an image of a room where every nook and cranny was filled with orchid plants. “Read the caption,” he said. I can’t remember the exact wording but it went something like this: This private collection of almost 2,000 orchids all began with the gift of a single plant.

“This is all your fault,” said my stepfather, with barely the hint of a smile on his face.

He was referring to my mother’s modest but rapidly growing collection of orchids. And yes, the collection all started with a single gift, from me. About a year ago, my mother fell in love with a plant that was sitting in my brother’s kitchen. It was a very pretty plant. It had tall thin leaves that looked like tulip leaves, but much thinner. Shooting up through these leaves were sprays of exquisite, delicate, pale yellow blooms. The flowers were tiny, and there must have been hundreds of them on this single plant. My brother’s wife, a botanist, told us that the plant was an orchid.

A few months later I was looking for a birthday gift for my mother. I remembered how much she loved my sister-in-law's orchid so I called to ask her what to look for. She told me it was called an Oncidium Twinkle. A quick search on Google led me to Orchid Web, and I gave them a call. Turns out they were in the middle of a snowstorm at the time and there was no way they’d be able to ship plants in that weather. So I shelved the idea until later -- Mother’s Day 2007. She was so surprised and happy about it, even though the plant would require some time before it would have any blooms. Little did we know that single plant would be the start of a rather addicting hobby.

It turns out that people are quite fanatical about orchids. I had no idea. Several months later, my mother is a card carrying member of her local Orchid Society. She has an area of her house dedicated to growing orchids, complete with a special growing light on a timer. She knows the latin names for her plants, each of which has its own watering and fertilization needs. It’s a fascinating hobby, orchid collecting, and while I am not much of a gardener myself, I’m enjoying hearing about it secondhand through her.

I recently accompanied her on a greenhouse tour with her local Orchid Society. It was a small tour of some of the society members’ private greenhouses, and it was really interesting to see the different setups – and the amazing plants – that the folks had. One woman had built a professional greenhouse from a kit. It was reasonably large – about eight people could comfortably gather around the main central table – and fully climate controlled with heat sensors and humidifying misters. It was full of light and it was peaceful and very professional looking – and her plants were gorgeous. Huge yellow blooms with spindly tendrils coming off of them. Small brownish red flowers that smelled like chocolate – really! Huge pink flowers similar to those you’ll see on the orchids for sale in the grocery store, only bigger and healthier. Another member, a veteran electrician, had built a greenhouse off of his garage. It was huge and haphazard, and not as professional looking as the first greenhouse, but it was filled to bursting with beautiful blooming plants – including a vanilla orchid! I had no idea that vanilla beans came from the seed pod of a type of orchid plant. Another member had built a greenhouse on his deck, right outside his home office so that he could look at his flowers while he was working. It was in this greenhouse that a particular plant caught my eye. It was a small thing, and had no flowers, but the foliage was nothing short of stunning. Its leaves were a deep emerald green, with intricate veins that were so white against the velvet green that they seemed to glow. The pattern that the veins made in the leaves was so beautiful and delicate. I’d never seen anything like it, and I asked what it was. “It’s a jewel orchid,” the owner told me. “They don’t have very pretty blooms, but people collect them for the beauty of their foliage.”

Now, I have to say I have no interest in houseplants. I kill them, no matter how hard I try to keep them alive. But I wanted one of these jewel orchids. Badly.

A few weeks ago, there was an orchid show at a local nursery in Seattle, and it happened to be on the same weekend that my mom was here for a visit. So we went together. There were all sorts of orchids there, and my mom’s collection grew a bit more. And she bought me a present, too. My very own jewel orchid. Ludisia discolor var alba to be more specific.

It is so very pretty, and I love it. But alas, my not-so-green thumb has already become a problem. Note the very unhappy and brown lower leaf:

My mother tells me that the bottom leaf on many orchids will often grow brown and fall off, but I’m worried that this isn’t a good sign. I’m doing everything the grower told me to do – watering it twice a week but keeping it well drained, misting it every now and again, and keeping it in a window that does not get direct sunlight. Still, I don’t think it’s very happy.

So after some googling around, I learned that this particular plant is often included in terrariums. And I had an idea. I cut the raised portion off of a Gladware container lid so that I could use it to stand the orchid in a dish of water without the pot actually coming into contact with the water. Then I cut the top off of a plastic container and inverted it over the plant – voila, a makeshift terrarium. I hope it helps. Wish me luck.

And I guess I should admit this now. Despite my reservations, my small collection has grown a tiny bit…

From left to right, for those of you that might be interested: Dendrobium Rigidum, Ascocentrum Miniatum, and Tolumnia Passionata. We’ll see if I can manage to get any of these to bloom in the coming years. (The only one mature enough to bloom anytime soon is the one on the right.)

A single plant indeed. Sigh…