THE ORCHID SITTER
Orchids are everywhere in the floral world right now. I saw hundreds of them at the recent Philadelphia Flower Show. The New York Botanical Garden is right in the middle of its annual orchid show, as is Pennsylvania’s Longwood Gardens. If I were a betting person, I would wager that the upcoming New England Flower Show will be dripping with cattleyas, miltonias and oncidiums as well. I have long appreciated orchids, but for years I was wary of growing them myself
The matter was taken out of my hands a few years ago when a friend gave me a beautiful white-flowered phalaenopsis or moth orchid. The plant arrived in bud and bloomed expansively for several weeks. After the petals dropped, I accessed at least fifty online growing guides and followed their advice religiously through the winter months. In the spring I set the pot in a shady place on my porch.
Unfortunately the shady place was also rather out-of-the way and I made a habit of forgetting about the orchid. In the wild, phalaenopsis derive most of their nutrients from air and rainwater. My orchid clearly had plenty of air, but probably not enough water. It succumbed by the end of the first summer.
Undaunted, the following spring I went to the Philadelphia Flower Show and bought a flashy pink and white specimen. The plant was on the small side, but it bloomed nicely. Once the flowers were gone, however, it died quickly, and I suspected something was wrong with it from the beginning. I didn’t even get the chance to put it out on the porch and forget about it.
My next moth orchid was a purple variety that I selected at the local big box store because it was the biggest and healthiest of the four hundred orchids in the display. It was also the cheapest of my three moth orchids and held onto its blooms the longest. Sadly, it was not strong enough to withstand being blown off the porch shelf during a windstorm, and it died.
With three dead orchids on my conscience, I hesitated last year when my daughter asked me to take care of hers. She likes plants that bloom continuously and since her dorm room had space for only one specimen, she chose a floriferous African violet over her elegant pink moth orchid. The orchid was on the brink of homelessness, so I had no choice but to be a good mother and take it in.
The plant started with a big disadvantage–it was growing in a decorative pot with no drainage holes. Since my daughter loved the pot at least as much as the orchid, a new pot was out of the question. Fortunately, the roots were comfortably nestled in the kind of coarse bark mix that orchids like. I filled the pot with water once a week and let it soak in for twenty minutes before carefully pouring off all the excess. The routine seemed to work. When summer came, I put it outside in a protected corner. I did my best to remember the weekly watering and brought it in before it was kissed by frost. By early December, two flower spikes had formed.
For over a month now, the orchid has sported an impressive collection of pink blooms. I feel vindicated. The day the first bud opened I took a picture with my phone’s camera and sent it to my daughter. Oblivious to my orchid insecurities, all she could say was, “Wow, Mom, your phone takes great pictures!”
Next week I have to go out to the big box store again to buy some screws and painter’s tape. I know the orchid display will be enticing and I’m sure I read somewhere online that orchids do better with companionship. Does one moth orchid success cancel out three failures? Of course it does. I am an optimist, not to mention a sucker for a pretty floral face. This time I will triumph over orchid morbidity. Failure has led me to the ultimate formula for orchid success–a great plant in a terrible pot.