There is no use trying to avoid it any more—the houseplants are well past the vacation stage and must be brought in. Night temperatures are descending and even though the geraniums, African violets, plumbago and even the potted Abyssinian glads are still blooming gaily, the summer porch party is really over.
This year I have not welcomed seasonal change, as every day takes me a bit farther from my old life. But the seasons have changed without my oversight or permission and I have had to go with Nature’s flow. Now, we are moving inexorably towards the Winter Solstice, with a little less daylight every day. Daylight is always better for plants than indoor light, but not freezing to death is also desirable, so I will take the time and effort to haul in the pots of tender perennials. The outdoor annuals have had their day and will make their exit at the first hard frost. I stopped deadheading about a month ago and let them set seed for the benefit of the birds and a few self-sown blooms next year.
While I was looking the other way, the ‘Grandpa Ott’s’ morning glories clambered up the trellising below my back porch, vaulted over the railing and grasped many of the potted geraniums to create a network of vines among the various containers. The combination of the morning glory blooms and the geraniums was showy, but now all those ties that bind have to be severed. I trust that the newly-barbered morning glories will self seed as they have done every year and I will have a similar avalanche of purple blooms to look forward to next spring and summer.
The large blue plumbago and the equally sizeable oleander bloomed profusely in summer and the plumbago is still holding forth. As I clean the outsides of the pots and set them up inside, I know that I am also setting them up to languish until spring. Even with supplemental light, these tropical divas stop making an effort and start looking sad. By spring they will have convinced me that they are at death’s door and I will rush them out on the first good day as an act of horticultural CPR. Their resurrection will amaze me, despite the fact that I recognize seasonal trickery when I see it.
My Tradescantia pallida or purple heart has had a banner year and continues to send out long, jointed, dark purple stems, each ending in a leafy “cradle” bearing a light purple bloom. I will clean it up, check for hitchhiking bugs and put it atop a tall plant stand, the better to continue sprawling, albeit at a slower pace, through the winter.
My daughter, who prizes geraniums above almost everything else, also prizes the fact that I am the caretaker for every last one of them. A few of the geraniums are showing signs of imminent death, which is probably a good thing, as indoor plant space has its limits, even in my house. I will trim the plants back, repot those that are bursting from their current containers and combine pots that have been diminished by the death of the weakest occupants. The geraniums get the sunniest spots, even though most of them give no indication of appreciating that honor. We do have one rather manic pink geranium that throws out blooms with wild abandon all winter long. That plant gets the absolute best south-facing window to encourage those cheerful tendencies.
The holiday cactus has also been outdoors and will undoubted bloom at some time other than Thanksgiving or Christmas. That is fine, since I like surprises. What I like even better is the fact that it thrives on total neglect and seems to reward that behavior.
Many indoor plant lovers cosset their plants and are better acquainted with their bloom and dormancy cycles than they are with the schedules of spouses or children. I am not one of them. I have the knowledge filed away in my brain and can share it with others whenever they ask me, but I rarely act on it. As the result, the potted amaryllis saved from last year do not go down to the darkest part of the basement on Labor Day, re-emerging eight weeks later to begin a new growth cycle. I treat my amaryllis like all the other houseplants and most rebloom in their own good time. If I want a plant to provide color for the holidays, I generally go out and acquire a new specimen. Wholesale and retail growers work hard to provide me with that kind of opportunity and I like to reward them for it.
In short, the plants generally survive the winter on good genes and as much available sunlight as they can get in the house. The care schedule, at least right now, will be haphazard at best. I look for an improvement for all parties—plants and humans–once the Solstice passes and the light begins to return.