House Plants Make Me Happy

Like most everyone else, I'm hunkered  down to wait for the world to stop wobbling, for ignorance and willful disregard for truth to subside, for some better times to come our way. This winter with the miracle vaccine finally and oh so slowly coming our way, reminds me of how deer are most likely to die of starvation just as the new green growth starts in spring. It's hard to stay sane and hang on, and I'm thankful for every minute that I have Liam safe here with me at home. Now Phoebe, who's been careful and kept herself safe, has made it home for Christmas, and I'm feeling especially thankful to be confined in a place that I love, surrounded by beauty and deep woods. Really, how lucky can you get?

Since the multiple groanhouse freezes over the years, I've learned the hard way that I must grow plants indoors as well as out in the greenhouse. I rarely get through a year without a greenhouse freeze, thanks to condensation in my natural gas line, which is a plastic pipe that runs over the top of the ground from an oilwell out in the meadow to my house.  The company that leases my oil and gas well has left the broken welljack untended for four years now, and it's grown high with brambles. A big aspen fell on it and I paid someone to cut it off, but the oil/gas company still hasn't bothered to revive it.  My house is heated with gas which comes through that pipe thanks to the natural pressure at the wellhead, not because oil is being pumped. It all makes me nervous and uneasy, and the greenhouse freezes are the manifestation of Stonebridge Operating Company's negligence. Free gas is really great until it goes off on in the middle of the night. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, there is a lot of cussing and sometimes quite a few tears. There's nothing quite like walking into a greenhouse that was a riot of color and beauty the evening before, to find everything frozen solid.

So I decided to have doubles on my favorites, and not to trust the Groanhouse not to kill them. I have young understudies on my favorite hibiscus, and the plan is to bring them in the house when the temperatures plunge to single digits. So... I have a lot of houseplants now. And that turns out to be a wonderful thing. I took a little tour around the house, photographing some of the plants that make my everyday world more beautiful and interesting.

This teeny Crown of Thorns from Kenya is so sweet. Three times, it has self-pollinated, and dropped seeds into its own pot, which have made another tiny plant. It's just the coolest thing to see this little seedling come up and to recognize the fleshy round leaves as those of a Crown of Thorns. Oh my!  Gotta love a plant that does that! I give them to sisters, friends, and wait for the next seed child.

I rarely buy plants at the store, getting most of my material from friends (and giving just as much away), but I couldn't resist the lime, olive, white and forest green Martha Stewart striping on this Dracaena deremensis "Lemon Surprise"  which I bought off a huge rack of foliage plants at our Lowe's years ago. It's just the most beautiful thing, unfurling leaf after candy striped leaf, so shiny and sturdy. I'm not sure what its adult form will be--I suspect it will form a trunk with a Seussian tuft atop it in time? It's almost 2' tall now and has racks of leaves all the way to the soil line. Highly recommended,  slow growing, gorgeous, and it doesn't want a lot of sun. In fact mine got a bit sunburned in a south window in November! This is how they tell me to move them back from the window.

My friend Leah gave me a tiny Haworthia pygmaea pup off her plant, and it's about to bloom, whatever that's going to look like. Knowing a bit about this genus, I'm prepared to be underwhelmed by its splendor, but I'm glad it's happy enough to send up a spike! Looks like the flowers will be white, lined green. If I remember correctly, this succulent is actually in the lily family, so I expect the flower to be three parted. We shall see!

I spotted the first shy bloom of a tiny Lobelia seedling volunteer in my outdoor shade garden in early November, and couldn't believe it was my favorite color of blue. I dug it out with my finger and potted it up and it's so happy to be indoors under a grow light. It makes me think of spring, when I'm always looking for just this shade of sky blue and am only ever able to find the dark purple ones at the garden center. 

I hereby pledge to nurture and propagate this plant until I can fill my hanging baskets with it come spring. 

They root quite easily in water! Have already made one propagule. 

Speaking of rooting, here's a cutting of Fuchsia "Trandshen Bonstet" that finally rooted. I took it in August, stuck it in water on the windowsill, and waited literally months. But eventually it threw out some roots and we were off to the races.

This plant is well worth the wait!

I grow a cutting in the greenhouse each winter, and set it out in the shade garden in May. By frost, it's almost as tall as I am, putting out cascades of these gorgeous, hummingbird friendly flowers. It roots in water and the cuttings bloom constantly while you wait. What's not to love about a plant like that? I got it probably 12 years ago at the Glasshouse Works in Stuart, OH, but thanks to its willingness to root in water and overwinter in the greenhouse, I've never had to buy it again.

I absolutely love this tiny variegated Syngonium podophyllum "Mini Pixie." The mother plant is going on four years old and only 6" tall. Easy as pie to propagate; they constantly make pups off to the side. It's in the arum family, like a teeny Caladium.

Another easy propagator is this jewel orchid, Ludisia discolor, a terrestrial (soil dwelling) orchid from SE Asia. When jewel orchids start sprawling over the sides of the pot, it's time to propagate them.

It's as easy as snapping off a cutting at an obvious joint, dipping the stem end in rooting hormone, and putting it in wet sphagnum moss or vermiculite until it roots. 

I hear a lot of people say this orchid is grown just for its gorgeous velvety black-green and red foliage, but the flower spikes are terrific, beautiful, long-lasting and fun to watch!

I have truly lost count of how many propagules I've given away off my Ludisia over the two decades since my friend Jason brought me a single stem in a 2" pot. 20? 30? Such fun to have friends check in from all over Ohio, Minnesota, South Dakota, North Carolina to tell me theirs are coming into bloom just when mine is! I suspect that in the jungles of southeast Asia, it forms a groundcover, since it crawls and sprawls in captivity. I grow it in a long, shallow planter to give it room to do its thing.

OK, so they're not exactly corsage material, but look at these happy little snowbirds, caught in mid-flap!

Seen against snow, they warm me straight through. 

The last houseplant I'll sing of here is my buttercrunch lettuce. Though we've had virtually no sun this winter, it grows beautifully up in the tower room, where it gets the cool temperatures and constant bright light it needs to make impossibly tender, thin leaves.

Every 4-5 days I go up, pick and water. The seven large planters take 5 gallons of water at a time. 

The last two pickings have been epic!

Enough to share.  I hope you've enjoyed this little tour of my houseplants. I pledge to be vigilant, and bring in the little hibiscus understudies "The Path" and "Creole Lady," when the next polar vortex blows in. Even if I have a greenhouse freeze this winter, I'll still have plenty on my windowsills to dote on--and eat!

Stay home as much as you possibly can. Wear your mask, wash your hands, and hunker down. I'll see you in a few days with a greenhouse tour!

JZ

Turning Inward--Home and Garden Solace

Out in the greenhouse, I went to pull something I thought was a withered bud off Hibiscus "The Path."

It was not a plant part. It was a huge female Bold Jumping Spider (Phidippus audax). And she had something in her jaws.  A brown marmorated stinkbug! I cannot imagine eating one of these, but maybe if you avoid the stink glands, you're good...This one was on a bud, sucking the life out of it, before its career was summarily ended by Ms. Phidippus.

I love jumping spiders. I hope this one makes a million babies. I'll put them all in my bedroom with the orchid collection. I let jumping spiders sit in my hand and zoop around on my arms and I have never, ever had one try to bite. No, they look up at me as if they understand that I am their friend.

I've had a bad bug year in the house. Zillions of Asian multicolored ladybugs. And way too many  brown marmorated stinkbugs. I hate them both with a passion. Here's what stinkbugs do to my orchid flower spikes INSIDE MY HOUSE. They pierce them and suck all the juices. This would have been an Encyclia cordigera flower spike with 5 incredibly fragrant lilac flowers on it, but for ONE stinkbug that I found on it. Ladybugs will pierce and chew orchid spikes too! I haaaate them so.

In past years, I bought yards of pale green tulle netting and made growing bags for the plants. It was a real pain because the stinkbugs and ladybugs still managed to find their way in. 

This year I hit on a more efficient protective device. It's Saran wrap, taped around the stem of the flower spike, with plenty of room for the buds to grow inside their makeshift protective bag.

It's ugly as hell, but it works. I have to look at bagged flower spikes for months. But oh, when they bloom! It'll all be worth it. 

In years past, before ladybugs and stinkbugs. This, my friends, is what's at stake. Encyclia cordigera:

Not only are they cool looking, they smell like muguet in heaven.

For some reason, stinkbugs leave Phalaenopsis bud spikes alone. They like to kill off rare orchids instead. Here's a fabulously graceful, full spike of 13 on its way. I've had this one for about five years. I remembered to use  orchid fertilizer late this winter. Duh. They do better if you feed them!

Next day, more are open. It's that ever-changing thing I love about growing plants. Checking in on them, seeing what's changed. Seeing the results of a well-timed feeding.

I like this strangely colored mini. It's more blue than magenta.

And this little clownface opened yesterday, and made me laugh. The whole plant isn't 5" across.

Speaking of mini, I'm in love with this supertiny aroid, Syngonium podophyllum "Mini Pixie."

The plant to the far left is the mother plant. I've had it since I took a cutting off my niece's plant, Thanksgiving 2017. And it still isn't 4" tall. I've split all these babies off it, and each one makes a gorgeous little specimen, variegated broadly with white. They're like microminiature caladiums. I have heard that people use this plant in fairy gardens. This is not a fairy garden, LOUISE. It is a planter with some very small plants and an oversized toad in it. Because Homey don't do fairy gardens. Well, I will put a toad in a planter, but that's as far as it goes. 

Another thing I'm growing in the house is sprouts. Many kinds. My very favorite, though, are sunflower. These are ready to harvest. You start them by sprinkling black oil sunflower seed atop moist potting mix, vermiculite or orchid mix, and you cut them off at soil level with a scissors when the shells finally pop off. It only takes about 10 days to get them to harvest. If you let them grow too long they'll get true leaves, and those are hairy, and not so good to eat. But the nutty flavor when you harvest them right after the shells pop off is amazing. So, so good. Anyone can do this. You don't have to live in the country! Just put them near a sunny windowsill and they'll turn into food.

The lettuce plants in the tower room ranch all bolted when Phoebe came home, but we got maybe six big salads out of them before I yanked them out of their planters. New understudies in the greenhouse here. I've got the planters all refreshed and ready. I'll grow them on the front porch from here on out, until October/November, when I'll have a new cohort ready for the winter tower room fun.

Outdoors in my shade bed, I'm watching these Virginia bluebells. When they are in full bloom, I figure the woodland plants will be, too. Then it'll be time to hit the trail! This year, I'll have both kids and Shila (at a distance) with me. Bliss. Heaven. 

Our daffodils have been absolutely spectacular this year. 

Phoebe's been making elegant bouquets. She says we have 13 varieties. I have never bought fancy bulbs. I have, however, dug a few here and few there at the margins of old cemeteries and abandoned homesteads, preferring to shop the heirloom section of the Earth's variety store.

Many firsts this year. We've tackled a bunch of spring chores much, much earlier than usual, simply because the weather seems finally to be breaking a bit, and we're here, and I have help and the time to do it.
The vegetable garden is cleaned up (with a team of three!), fully tilled, and I planted the peas this morning!! In order to get this done, I had to get the bonsais out of there.  I heel the bonsais into the vegetable garden in early winter. I take them out of their pots, dig a pit and sink them about a foot below ground level, and they do just fine. These are the small ones.

The big maples are getting really big.  I-can-hardly-lift-them now big. The one on the left is 43" tall. The right-hand tree, also my oldest at about 37 years, is about 38" tall. Scale is deceptive here. 

I'm so excited to see them leaf out slowly. It's the most beautiful thing to watch. Sometimes I'm so busy in spring I can't even get them potted before the leaves unfurl. This spring is different. I'm busy, but with different things. The things that fill my heart. Getting these trees out where I can talk with them and watch them change every hour is the thing.

Right now, this is my best looking tree. But things change.



This smaller one has real potential. I love that sideways sweep it has.



I've only got four potted maples to tend now. You may remember I sent the fifth out the meadow to become what it was born to be. It was so dang big, and it was trying to get out of its pot, getting taller and taller. I gave it a bigger pot and it started sending out crazy straight sprouts, headed for the stars.



The obvious thing was to liberate it, and put it out by Bill, where it gets daily visits and watering when it needs some.

I was most gratified to have a shaft of sunlight fall on this tree just as I was composing its picture.

 It is so very beautiful now. I can't wait to see it become a full-sized tree, like the two liberated bonsais in our yard. I mean, I can wait.  I want to wait. It'll just be fun to watch it all unfold.

This western red cedar that I got in maybe 1987(?) when it was about 8" tall has grown into the most beautiful specimen, complete with sweet little blue cones in season. It was given to me by a gentleman I knew in Connecticut who I'm sure is long gone. He asked that I remember him as long as I have the tree. His name was Dodie and he was wonderful. Loved bluebirds and used to put orange halves on dowels around his yard for the orioles. It was in his yard that Vanna, my Savannah sparrow, was found, rendered flightless by a cat. I kept Vanna for 17 1/2 years, effectively defining the possible life expectancy of that species. That's how Dodie and I became friends. Vanna is long gone, too, but the tree and my memories live on.

Thirty-three years on, here's that cedar you gave me, Dodie. It's 21" tall now. 

Still taking care of it, and the bluebirds too. They are initiating clutches earlier than any year in the 27 I've been keeping records. Birds are always telling us things. Those of us who listen to them have to tell the rest of the humans.